Harry Potter and the Bonds of Punishment - Rewrite
by Bunny Girl Nox
Summary: You've read all those cliché 'Harry gets sent to Azkaban on false charges' fics, right? You've seen how easily people can betray him and how easily Harry can be an arsehole... But what about a twist this time? What if things weren't so simple? This is a rewritten version of the original which will still be up. Gender Bender FEM!Ron. Harem. Strong and partially broken Harry.
1. When It's Too Late: Part 1

_Welcome. If you're familiar with this story, then yes! This is the rewritten version! There are a few things I wish to highlight before you go any further or invest yourself in the story:_

 _1\. If you don't know already, this story will have a_ _ **very**_ _cunning and clever Voldemort – I mean this to the **extreme**._

 _2\. "Whiney" Harry will largely be absent this time around._

 _3. **Female** Ron will __**still**_ _be in this story. If you've got a problem with that, I honestly don't need to hear it. This has nothing to do with my earlier hatred towards him. I completely grew out of that the more I reread the books (especially Deathly Hollows). My feelings are neutral towards him. The only reason I'm keeping Ron female is because it fits with the plot I sat out; it's for the story's sake._

 _4\. The plot is more concrete. I have even taken the time to write manuscripts._

 _5\. The Harem part of the story is **still in motion**. Once again, don't like Harems? It was nice knowing you._

 _6\. OOCness for some characters **is a given**. Honestly, don't come into this fic and expect them to act exactly like they did in canon. If they did act like that, then there would be _**no point** _for this story!_

 _7\. This story is done in my free time. I **won't** make any promises of sporadic updates. I dislike people who can't keep their promises for no reason, so I won't make any._

 _8\. Weasley Bashing and even Granger Bashing will be here. But, it isn't to the same degree as the original version, although it will start off much, **much** worse._

 _9\. Some things were changed to make events more plausible. This is no longer post CoS but post **GoF**._

 _11\. I **plan** to make this story extremely long. So far, I predict a total of forty chapters (10 000 words or more each) but it's still too early for me to give you my word on that. Remember, no promises._

 _12\. The original version (of this story) was done with a **limited** knowledge of the Harry Potter series (hardly watched the movies). I couldn't afford the books then (2015) because of my poor background. But now I have the entire collection, which helps in making this story more… relatable, I guess._

 _13. **Please review**. I know for some it's a pain ("too much work") and for others, they just don't want to for the simple reason that it's not a complete story. The latter is pretty unfair, in my opinion. As a fellow author or critic, you know very well that reviews are what keep most stories on this site alive; they motivate us authors. Please understand that I love reviews, no matter if they are good or bad (please consider making them constructive as well) because I love discussing points that the reviewer made. It helps me better myself, it really does. I'm not going to beg you, but I won't be motivated without them._

* * *

 **Chapter 1: When It's Too Late: Part 1**

In a small apartment building, a young man woke up to the ringing of his alarm clock. He got out of bed, looked around at his shoddy surrounding and began to prepare for the day.

It was routine for Harry. In a sense, he always felt on edge ever since the _'incident_ ' more than a year ago, where he had been convicted of killing Fred Weasley and six witches…

With Fred, it had happened at the very end of the Triwizard Tournament. Harry had escaped Voldemort using the Triwizard cup as a Portkey. When he came to Hogwarts with a dead Cedric in tow, people were too distracted by the horrible sight to note more danger.

Then it happened, the initial harmless cup had been cursed, causing it to explode into deadly shards that would be fatal to anyone who was too close. Dumbledore had immediately protected Harry from it, and a number of adults protected the children as well. But there were just too many pieces flying in the air to account for. Many people were severely injured. Fred was the only person who wasn't prepared for the onslaught. His death was instant.

The grief that greeted the Weasley family that day had been emotionally scarring.

Harry had told Dumbledore and the Weasleys of what happened with Voldemort, and that Voldemort probably rigged the cup in case he tried to escape. Dumbledore agreed that it was very possible, but it took a lot more of convincing for the Weasley family whose emotional wounds were still fresh from Fred's death. Harry had been utterly shocked to find out that they had initially blamed him. But he forced the sting aside. He understood… or at least tried to.

He and Ron were on even _more_ shaky grounds. Ron hadn't been talking to him much ever since the incident. There was an odd resentment in the redhead's voice when he did converse with Harry, like a large part of him did blame Potter for Fred's death. But Ron did try to put that behind him after constant complaints from Hermione about his attitude.

Harry had spent some of his Summer at the Dursleys again. But it wasn't two weeks before Aurors were at the door, demanding his surrender or swift termination, much to his shock.

Dumbledore had been surprised himself, asking questions to the man in charge of the group when he came to the Ministry. Harry would never forget the disappointing gaze from his then Headmaster for as long as he lived. He let them keep him in a holding cell; it wasn't in his character to fight off authority figures, anyway.

He was to be put on trial. The Ministry were not taking any chances of even giving him a probationary period. Even if he pleaded his innocence countless times, he was locked in the cell that was specifically designed to keep him in.

Before the trial even began, Ron, Hermione and the rest of the Weasleys were on his side. They constantly visited his cell, conversing heartedly with him. Harry knew they were worried, and their constant visits were a means to keep him calm and let him know that he still had people who believed he was innocent.

On the day of the trial, everyone was prepared for what would transpire. News reporters flocked the outskirts of the Ministry chambers, desperate to be the first to get a scoop of The-Boy-Who-Lived paying for crimes that were unforgivable. Many were sceptical, though. Some knew of Harry's character. It seemed very hard to picture the kind boy to be a blood-thirsty murderer.

Scepticism intensified when the trial began. The prosecutor made a show of labelling Harry as a master of deception, envisaging himself as an innocent boy but being truly a heartless tyrant. The Weasleys made their disagreements known, shouting curses at the prosecutor for even insinuating that Harry was evil. Minister Fudge had to, on more than one occasion, call for order.

The prosecution wished to provide evidence to make their claims more concrete. They opted the use of a Pensieve for everyone to see Harry's memories themselves.

The process was fairly quick. Minister Fudge had given orders to also retrieve memories from the time of the Triwizard Tournament. Once everything was prepared, Dumbledore cast a spell that outwarded the memories so everyone could watch. And they all did in rapt interests.

They saw, to their horror, someone in a hooded cloak and Harry conversing at the supposed graveyard that Harry had escaped from while Cedric's dead body was just next to them. Harry voluntarily took the cup that killed Fred Weasley from the cloaked figure and seemed to have a sinister smile on his face. The killing of the six witches was also confirmed, along with another person that was unaccounted for.

Harry couldn't stop looking at the scene. He knew he was innocent, and he had been hoping that the Pensieve would have provided solid proof and he would be out of the trial in no time. But it didn't; it only solidified his criminal conduct.

"That's not what happened, I swear!" he yelled to a still silent room.

"So, you're going to denounce your own memories?" Fudge questioned sternly.

"They're not mine! I never accepted anything from anyone! Voldemort killed Cedric and tricked me into escaping with the cup! I was never where any of the witches were killed!"

"Wrong!" the prosecution accused. "We have witnesses!"

That got the entire room's attention, and Fudge was more than delighted to move away from the subject of Voldemort.

One by one, witches came onto the stand. All of them testified against Harry, some plainly describing that the man that killed the witches had a scar on his forehead and wore glasses.

As the evidence kept mounting against him, Harry could feel a shift from the people closest to him. Ron was becoming increasingly angry and the rest of the Weasleys looked lost at what to think. Hermione kept her eyes on him, trying to figure out what was real and what was not. Harry felt a pang when he concluded that he was losing them all to this trail.

"This has become increasingly complicated," Dumbledore said after the last witnesses' testimony. "However, I dare say that we cannot base our judgement on mere witness sightings, as anyone can make mistakes."

"What about the Pensieve, Dumbledore?" Fudge challenged.

"I cannot refute that what we have witnessed were indeed memories taken from Harry. But I would like to cross-reference them in case there was something that was missed. The memories were unusually quick in sequence from one to the next."

"What, like _memories_ were hiding something? Is that what you're insinuating?"

"Merlin, no. I just think that they should be analysed very carefully for inconsistencies."

"This is the first time I have ever heard of someone questioning memories," Fudge chuckled snidely. "It seemed that it _was_ a good idea to have you removed from the Wizengamot. Your old age is catching up to you."

Dumbledore didn't let the jibe get to him but opted for another strategy. "Then I elect the use of Veritaserum in order to deduce Harry's own confession, from word-of-mouth."

Fudge turned to his associates. They all nodded.

So, the Minister agreed, and Harry found himself taking sips of water, with an added dosage of something odd. He was put on the spot. He could feel himself losing touch with reality. He was asked a few innocent questions by the prosecutor to confirm that the serum was taking effect. Once he fell under the truth drug completely, the prosecutor immediately began with the intended inquiries.

"Mr Potter, were you at the location that your memories indicate at the time of the murders?"

"... Mmm… ng… Y-Yesss."

It was as if time stopped. There were gasps all around the courtroom. Even Dumbledore could not keep his shock in check as he heard Harry's confession.

"Okay," the prosecutor continued. "Did you murder the six girls?"

An uncharacteristic smirk played on his devoid face. "Ngg… Oh, yesss and a lot… ngg… _more_ than that."

Most couldn't discern what they were hearing. The people who knew Harry personally were left speechless by his words. Molly Weasley had already fainted. Arthur gulped air like a fish in the desert as he held his wife. Ginny... poor Ginny, she couldn't stop herself from sobbing.

"Did you kill the one named Fred Weasley?"

Harry openly, _darkly_ snickered out, "No, but it _wasssn't_ an… ngg… accident."

"T-This... This can't be right!" Ron sputtered, surprising the courtroom.

The prosecutor wasn't obligated to talk to people not involved in the case, but seeing an opportunity, he decided to. "After the Pensieve we've witnessed _and_ Mr Potter's word-of-mouth, you still choose to question our evidence?"

Put on the spot, Ron was flustered, but he spoke out anyway. "I-I know Harry! He saved my sister's life and many others. There has to be a mistake somewhere!"

"Mr Weasley," Minister Fudge began, shaking his head, "I do apologise for this, my dear boy, but the evidence is clear and Harry's confession solidifies his involvement in the case."

"Was anyone with him on this day, September the fifth?" The prosecutor questioned, directing his gaze to the uncomfortable and torn Weasley family.

"He was supposed to be with the Dursleys, his caretakers, if you could call them that," Arthur begrudgingly supplied.

"I see." The prosecutor directed his gaze to a young Potter, who was still under the influence of the truth serum, "Were you at the Dursley residence on September fifth?"

"... Ngg…! In the beginning, but I used their neglect and snuck out of the house."

"Where did you go to?"

"The park… u-u… gah… underground sewers."

"For what reason?"

Another snicker, his mouth in a snarl. "What do _you_ think? To kill those… ngg… _bitchesss_ , of course

Now people were angry.

"Let's go back then to the Triwizard Tournament." The prosecutor noticed this was a golden opportunity. "Did you kill one Cedric Diggory?"

"Yesss."

There was an uproar.

"Silence!" Fudge yelled.

"Who were you talking to that gave you that cup?"

"A servant of Voldemort. I don't know his name."

The gasps and flinches were more prominent.

"Servant of Voldemort?!" Fudge babbled, flinching himself. "Why would there still be anyone who supports a man who has been long since dead?"

"Because Voldemort is alive and _I've… nnnggg… joined him_."

Dead silence.

After gathering himself, Minister Fudge analysed what he just heard. Since Harry was under a truth drug, everything he was speaking of _must_ have been the truth.

Which brought on _huge_ problems for the wizarding world. The Minister knew he could not denounce Harry's claim of Voldemort existing because that would denounce Harry's confession to murder as well. But, something still didn't seem right.

"Did you _see_ Voldemort at any given time?" Fudge asked, flinching.

"No, I was told that he has returned," Harry admitted, bored. "I _jumped_ at the chance."

"You bastard!" Ron spat, livid with what he was hearing. "How could you do this to us, Harry?! We've been there for you all this time!"

"Mhmhmhm… Because I could and it was _easssy_ ," Harry chuckled impishly.

"Calm yourself, Mr Weasley," Fudge said. He directed his gaze back to Harry and decided to continue with the important subject. "How are you certain that He-Who-Shall-NOT-Be-Named has returned if you've never seen him?"

"He communicated with me."

"How?"

"I don't know, actually, but he has."

"That is not an answer, Potter!" Professor McGonagall, who had had enough of Harry's betrayal, said spitefully.

People in the courtroom were still processing everything. Dumbledore had been trying to see if there was a way to salvage the situation and perhaps get Harry a lighter sentence, one which didn't involve Azkaban. But it was hopeless. He couldn't be charged as a minor because of his importance. It would be impossible to ask for an appeal. Because Harry had confessed to a number of gruesome murders that were hard to stomach, one of them being the slow mutilation of a teen witch, the Ministry would deem him too dangerous for society. Dumbledore knew all about the procedure from his time as Chief Warlock. There was nothing he could do.

The boy would have to pay, and the fight against the Dark Arts would be crippled if not finished. It saddened the old wizard, but Harry needed to face justice.

"It's fine," Fudge said, already figuring out what Harry must have been getting at. "You must have been tricked, Mr Potter, by someone who was posing as the Dark Lord."

"..."

"There is no choice on the matter then. For the murdering of six _innocent_ witches and two wizards. You are hereby sentenced to life in Azkaban without parole. May Merlin have mercy on your soul."

The effects of the Veritaserum subsided. Immediately, Harry jumped out of his seat. "Please! I didn't do it! I don't know what happened to me, but that wasn't me talking, I swear to you!"

No one was buying it. Almost everyone looked at him disgustedly.

"You're dead to me, you hear me, Potter?!" Ron snarled. "Rot in hell, you bloody monster!"

"No, Ron! It's all lies! I'm being framed!" Harry yelled back animatedly, pure desperation filling his voice.

Arthur glared at Harry with so much hatred that was easily mirrored by an awake Molly. To think that they had allowed someone so despicable to be part of their family? And Fred was the cost for it!

Hermione wasn't looking at Harry anymore. She gave up her visage of his innocence by the end of his confession. She didn't want anything to do with him anymore.

"I swear on my parents' graves that I never, ever killed anyone! I didn't do any of this!" Harry said to all of them.

Fudge had enough. "Pathetic. You can't lie your way out of this one. You can't blame He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named on your crimes any longer. Your excuses are all used up, right, Dumbledore?"

Harry looked at his Headmaster as well, silently begging for him to defend him. He had to have seen that it was all trick. The old man knew the real him; he had to have realised that something wasn't right about all this.

But Dumbledore only stared at Harry in pure sadness. "I'm sorry, Harry. I want to believe you, I do for certain. But the evidence is just too incriminating. This isn't what I had hoped for… I need time to think."

Time to think? What the hell did that mean? Harry needed his help _now_ and he needed time to think?

Two Aurors began to haul him away but he didn't want to leave things as they were.

"Please let me talk to them!" Harry begged as they passed the Weasley family. The Aurors looked to fudge.

"Let him," Fudge dismissed, not really caring at the moment.

They released him, and Harry scrambled to get to them.

He was met with a wicked hook that connected to his face. Ron had taken matters into his own hands and let his rage get the better of him. He would later wonder what had come over him. However, in this moment, all he wanted to do was avenge the death of his brother. He wanted to take out his anger at the betrayal of someone he had once considered family.

He quickly straddled Harry and began pummelling away until blood started to splatter on the floor. It all happened in a matter of seconds.

Arthur viciously hauled Ron away from Harry. "That's enough, Ron!"

"No! Dad, how can you say that! He killed your son!" Ron gnarled.

Arthur winced at the mention of Fred. He looked on resentfully at the pitiful Harry Potter as he tried to right himself.

Harry felt every bruise on his face like someone had lit a torch and threw it at him at close range. He could taste the metallic texture of blood and had a distinct feeling that his jaw was dislocated.

Even through the searing pain, he struggled to the redheads, desperate for them to understand.

"P-please b-believe m-me," he struggled to say. He briefly looked around and saw no one giving him sympathy… except for Hermione. But her sympathy appeared to be more at his state than his plight.

"Harry," she struggled to say anything with eyes on her, but she persisted. The boy who betrayed her deserved everything he got. "I hope I never see you again."

Harry's eyes were as wide as dinner plates. She couldn't have meant it.

"I hate that we were friends," Hermione continued. "I hate that I can't hate the time I've spent with you."

Was she… was she struggling to accept this, too? Did she have doubt?

"I hate you."

Harry's already blurry world came crashing down at her harsh admission.

"I didn't-"

"Don't lie to me!" Hermione screamed. "We all know who you are now! I was willing to believe you but after this… I can't even look at you anymore."

Ginny couldn't hold the opportunity to vent her own anger. She rushed to him and slapped him as hard as she could. Everyone flinched at the deafening sound of flesh meeting flesh.

Harry's eyes stared at his side from the force; he didn't bother looking back at them. He had given up any hope. The tears stung more than he could ever imagine. He had never remembered sobbing so wretchedly before.

From then on, he spent approximately three months in Azkaban. The Dementors paid their regular visits. In fact, they were practically his only company. Relieving nightmarish memories was extremely hard on him for the first few weeks. He could hardly discern from reality by the time Dumbledore came to visit him.

"We're all disappointed in you, Harry. You have betrayed everyone around you for such petty reasons," Dumbledore said.

"Pro… Professor," he rasped in a tired voice.

Dumbledore eyed the boy huddled in the far corner of the cell, looking thin and out of touch with reality. Harry's glassy eyes stared passed him.

The Headmaster sighed and actually sat down on the floor by the cell doors. "I keep wondering to myself as to where did we all go wrong? It makes little sense that you would betray us like this."

"…"

"I just… I don't know, Harry. I don't know what to think of you anymore. I thought I knew you well, but I evidently never have."

"… I-I'm … i-innocent."

Dumbledore looked at Harry again. It was obvious that Harry was having a hard time speaking. His voice sounded hoarse, either from disuse or… overuse. And the way Harry stared back at him, like he wasn't there, like he didn't exist, would haunt Albus for years to come.

"And how can you refute all the evidence placed against you?"

"… Vol… V-Vol…"

He was struggling hard, Albus noted. He also noted a distinct fear and twitch whenever Harry started to say the name. But he knew what Harry wanted to say.

"Are you telling me that Tom did all this, Harry? It seems highly impossible. It's far too elaborate to be Tom's character if that was the case."

"He… visits… a lot… telling… m-m-me… I lost…"

That definitely got Dumbledore's attention. Voldemort actually visited Harry? Why? Better yet, if that's what happened, why didn't Voldemort kill Harry now, when he was absolutely defenceless? The better part would be to know if Tom really orchestrated any of this.

"How can you expect me to believe any of this, Harry?"

"… Why?"

Dumbledore's eyes widened at the harsh voice. "Why what?"

"Why… don't… you believe… me? I've… always done… no wrong. H-how come… I always have… to be… the one… suffering and… getting the blame… Why me? Why?! Why does everyone always expect the worst of me and jump at the chance to believe it! Why can't my word be enough! Why do I _always_ have to prove myself! Why *Cough!* *Cough!*"

Dumbledore had his eyes transfixed on Harry as he violently coughed. He was even more staggered when Harry suddenly started sobbing.

Harry covered his face with his hands, but couldn't stop himself. His body broke out in shivers and he couldn't hold back the mangled wail that rocked his form.

"I… didn't ask for any of this!"

Something snapped in Albus at the sight; something very, very strong lurched his heart. He couldn't, wouldn't deny what his instincts were telling him. The rising horror to his conclusion made the lump in his throat very difficult to swallow. He used all his will power not to choke on his own spit.

Harry… Harry _had_ to be innocent.

Why, though? How did seeing a murderer crying in defeat solicit such a conclusion? It could be fake; it could be staged. He had no reason to believe anything Harry said.

Except he did; that part of his mind that couldn't understand why Harry had done a complete one-eighty was rising to the surface, making itself known. The doubt of Harry's conviction increased tenfold.

"I believe you, Harry." He nearly kept the comment to himself. If he admitted it, then he would also be admitting a deep shame he didn't want to analyse. But his pride was humbled by the hopelessness that was Harry James Potter.

Harry stopped sobbing. His blood-shot eyes connected with Dumbledore's. The Headmaster could see the profound hope that blossomed in front of him.

"R-really?" Harry whispered.

Albus gave him a grim smile. "Yes… Quite the error in judgement, indeed."

He stood up and dusted his cloak. The more he thought about it, the worse he felt about the situation. He couldn't look at Harry anymore, the whispers of his betrayal would just drown him in sorrow.

"Harry," Dumbledore said, still not looking at him, "I'm going to do what I can to get you out of here. Please give some time, as I am sure that it will not be easy proving your innocence to others."

Proving his innocence… The words attacked Albus over and over, spitting at him for his inaction. Wasn't it too late now? Hadn't the damage already been done? What possible penance can transpire from lending a hand to the one he wronged so much…

That was the question, wasn't it? Were they all wrong? If so, how could they prove it? The evidence was solid… or was it? The idea took him back to a few months ago.

* * *

" _I don't give a damn about what you say! Harry is innocent!" Sirius yelled._

 _They were all at 12 Grimmauld Place, a few hours after Harry had been convicted._

 _The place had a very tense atmosphere. Sirius had gone raving mad as soon as he heard what happened. He had been in an argument with Molly and Arthur for the past five minutes._

" _You weren't there, Sirius! You didn't see what we saw!" Molly yelled back. "He confessed,_ _ **confessed**_ _to the entire court that he_ _ **killed**_ _Fred! And you're going to stand there and defend him?!"_

" _You better bloody believe it, Molly!" Sirius growled. "I know my pup would never harm anybody unless it's to_ _ **protect**_ _himself," he snarled at Ron and Hermione seated together on a sofa, "or his '_ _ **friends'**_ _!"_

" _Don't you dare say that to them! They haven't done wrong by him._ _ **He**_ _betrayed them, not the other way around!" Molly shrieked, her face pink._

 _Sirius wasn't looking at her anymore. He continued to stare at Hermione and Ron. "What do you two have to say?"_

 _Ron glared at him. "… I really wished I_ _ **killed**_ _him."_

" _Watch it, boy, that's my godson."_

" _Wake the bloody up, Sirius! Everyone knows that he's guilty. I was_ _ **there**_ _at the trial myself. The kid is guilty! He did it. There was evidence_ _ **everywhere**_ _!" Tonks chimed in, tired of the whole argument._

" _Evidence?" Sirius muttered._

 _A lot of people sighed, glad they're were finally getting through to him._

" _Yes, evidence. It was clear as day that Harry was working for Voldemort," Tonks finished._

" _I agree," Alastor added. "I saw everything for myself. It was a sorry sight, I tell ya."_

" _Right, evidence," Sirius nodded. "Did Harry say he didn't do it?"_

" _Only after he was off of the Veritaserum. He mentioned something about being framed," Dumbledore said._

 _Sirius nodded again. "Moony?"_

 _Remus put a hand on his shoulder. "What is it?"_

" _Will you help me break him out of Azkaban?"_

 _Shocked silence was greeted by that request._

"… _Let's make sure we have a solid plan."_

" _What?!" Hermione yelled. "I can't believe what I'm hearing! Why would you do that after what you've heard!"_

" _Simple, if Harry, at any point, said he didn't do it, then he_ _ **didn't**_ _do it," Sirius said in all… seriousness._

" _Everyone is telling you the truth!"_

" _No, everyone is telling me_ _ **bullshit**_ _!"_

" _You've blinded yourself, Black," Snape sneered in the background. "You can't see anything but good old, pathetic Harry Potter."_

" _Give me a good reason why I shouldn't kick your arse, Sneeveles."_

 _Snape only glared at him._

" _Remus, I cannot believe that you're supporting this!"_

" _If Sirius believes Harry's innocent, then so do I. Harry hasn't given-"_

" _Evidence!" Molly yelled._

 _Sirius glared at her. "So what, they showed you something and you heard something and that's it? Was there cross-referencing, huh? Was this evidence paid close attention to in case of contradictions? Or did you just look at it and say, 'Yes, it had to be true!'"_

" _I give up with you!" Tonks snapped, walking to the rooms only floo._

" _I don't give two shits what any of you think of me and Moony. If my godson is in danger, I'll go to hell and back for him! I don't give a damn about my life if Harry isn't protected. Believe what you want. I choose to believe in my godson! If you have a problem with that, then sod off, the lot of you! Come on, Moony. We're getting him out of there!"_

* * *

Dumbledore sighed. That was the last time anyone would see the two alive. They had been foolish, fuelled by the frantic need to save Harry. They were sloppy and ended up murdered by Death Eaters.

The Weasleys hardly cared for the news of their deaths. Remus and Sirius were warned many times to stay away from Harry, after all. They were told over and over again that they were making a mistake. Why should anyone grieve over someone that chose not to listen? It was a cold reality that Dumbledore was dealing with.

He didn't dare bring the subject up with Harry now. The boy was too emotionally fragile. Dumbledore swiftly left, intending on doing what he should have done from the very beginning.

* * *

It had taken him at least four months more of constantly filling out paperwork that the Ministry required for him to get access to the very same Pensieve that was used in Harry's trial. He was strictly monitored by Ministry officials since he was no longer Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. But, at least, he was allowed to view Harry's memories. He had found nothing wrong. The very same memories played in his vision. He could find nothing wrong with them. They seemed very consistent, although somewhat blurry. The problem was, unlike other memories that played out at a moderate pace to give the viewer a clear image of what was going on, these memories were fast; they swiftly moved from one instant to another. It was the strangest thing he had ever seen. It made it somewhat difficult to discern the whole picture.

He could slow the memories down, but he was not allowed to manipulate anything, according to the Minister. So, he was out of luck.

Two more months of filling in paperwork and waiting for news of the next procedures, he requested complete access to Harry's memories.

"You cannot do that on your own," Fudge had said, looking at the paperwork that Albus completed.

"You can send anyone you wish to monitor me, but I need to slow the memories down to a point where I can have a clear picture."

"And how am I not sure that you won't tamper with anything?"

"If it distresses you so much, you can have someone of your choosing do it instead of me, but I have to be there to see it myself."

"Hmmm… Very well, I'll have someone manipulate the memories to your liking. The sooner we can put this to rest, the better we're off. Potter _is_ guilty. I'm amazed that you've changed your mind about that."

"You're not the only one, Cornelius."

* * *

"Wait, Amelia, can you go back a few seconds?"

"Alright… here?"

"Yes, yes, that's perfect."

Albus had been regularly visiting the DMLE for the last week or so. He felt very conflicted that Professor McGonagall was in charge of Hogwarts with very little reasoning to it. She seemed to understand his urgency and had thankfully provided little question to the matter.

For the past week, he had been going over Harry's memories frame-by-frame with the assistance of Madam Bones. She had seemed hesitant in the beginning, citing that it was pointless trying to disprove something that had already been proven, but Albus was adamant. He was not going to give up. He at least owed that to his student.

The memory they had been thoroughly analysing concerned the graveyard incident where Cedric died. They kept repeating every moment carefully. At first, nothing looked out of place, but then…

"Do you see anything odd about Harry?" Albus asked Amelia.

The memory was frozen as Harry cast the Killing Curse behind Cedric's back. His wand was held tightly in his hand.

"No, I can't say I do."

"Move in closer to his wand," he instructed.

Amelia obeyed. She still didn't understand his fascination. "What am I looking for?"

"Harry's wand is different."

Amelia's widened eyes stared at him. "How can you tell?"

"I'm quite familiar with its structure. This one is a tad crooked and a lot pointier. Could you reverse to the moment Harry fought the Hungarian Horntail?"

The memories changed repeatedly until the very event.

"Okay, stop."

Amelia eyed the wand in the still picture.

It did _not_ match.

This surprised Amelia a great deal. It wasn't even solid evidence that could possibly aid them. But it was an _inconsistency_.

"Okay, switch to the moment before Harry grabbed the cup."

She did.

"Pan to the wand."

She did.

It was the very same wand that Harry used in his fight against the Dragon.

"Right. Can you switch to the memory right after Harry and Cedric grabbed the cup?"

Amelia switched to the graveyard scene, where a drowsy Harry sat up with an equally exhausted Cedric. She immediately focused on the wand without being told to.

It didn't match the last two images.

"Finally, switch to exactly after Harry grabbed the cup again."

She did as told.

The same wand that he fought with against the Horntail.

It was something so _small_ , but the impact was _gargantuan_.

An _actual contradiction_.

"It appears we might have been fooled, after all," Dumbledore said, a grimace on his face.

Still, this wasn't nearly enough to denounce the crimes that Harry had _confessed_ to. But for Amelia, one contradiction equalled a potential _many_.

"It may not be enough for a solid case… Shall we continue?"

Albus smiled at Amelia, happy with her sudden eagerness for the truth.

"Of course… Let's deal with the murder of the six witches."

"Right."

"I want you to start the memories at the beginning of Harry's stay with his relatives. Fast forward by two times the normal speed until I tell you otherwise."

Amelia followed the instructions. The images kept changing rapidly. Even after a full ten minutes, Dumbledore did not order her to stop.

He decided to voice out something that had been bugging him.

"I've noticed something peculiar about certain memories."

"What may that be?" Amelia asked, focused on her task.

"Whenever we view memories that we're familiar with and could easily document, they're clear and quite easy to interpret. But the memories that seem inconsistent – like the graveyard incident – are blurry and hard to properly follow."

"Ah, I see. Yes, I have noticed that as well. Do you think it's significant?"

"Yes, indeed. Everything must be considered important! That particular memory was bright, like…"

"A vision?" Amelia supplied. Upon receiving a nod, she continued, "That doesn't seem very likely, the Ministry knows how to distinguish false memories from real ones… Do you not think so?"

"Highly," Dumbledore disagreed, never taking his eyes off of the rapidly switching memories. "I have mentioned before that Harry and Volde-"

"Albus-"

"I meant He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named are connected, correct?"

"You have mentioned it to the Wizengamot a few times, I remember."

Albus began pacing. "What do we all know about it? There isn't a thing like this documented in history. We don't know the connection's limitation since no one has ever had it before."

"True… Do you think that perhaps He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named might have used that connection to his advantage during Harry's trial?"

"It's… a stretch to think that. I mean, he would have to know the exact… moment."

Dumbledore's eyes widened. Voldemort could have known when each section of the trial happened using Harry's connection.

"You said that the Ministry could easily distinguish memories from true to false, correct?"

"Yes."

"But what if the connection, something none of us understand played a role in the Pensieve. Voldem-"

"Albus!"

"He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named could have used the connection, planted false memories that were too good at looking like the real thing. If Harry made up the false memory, it would be easy to see that because he made a conscious decision to make a false memory, but if He-Who-Tom! If _Tom_ made a false memory, without Harry being conscious of the false memory, then-"

"It could easily pass as the real one," Amelia finished, looking grim. "But… we would have known of any outside influence."

"Unless the influence is done on the inside," Dumbledore said. "The connection makes Tom a part of Harry but not a part of him as well."

"I get it. That ambiguity could easily cause confusion with false memory from the real thing… It's starting to look more plausible now."

"I wish I had asked for an extension to Harry's trial," Dumbledore said suddenly and softly.

"We were all in the moment. We couldn't have known that a Pensieve could actually be wrong."

"Well, we should have tried."

"It's pointless making excuses now. We should have tried, but we didn't, I am aware. So, focus on making things right _now_ ," Amelia said.

"Yes, you absolutely right… This memory is sure taking its time."

As soon as he said that, the memory finally switched to the six witches.

"How long did that take?" Dumbledore asked.

"Twenty minutes," Amelia answered.

"When did Harry commit these murders? I'm sure it was September the fifth."

"It was."

"Wait, Amelia, stop the image."

The image showed Harry casting the Killing Curse on one of the girls. It was blurry, bright, and hard to distinguish… Another false memory.

Dread was slowly creeping in and aiming for his neck. He rubbed it absentmindedly. His mind was working overtime.

"Are memory dates still documented for proof?"

"Of course."

"Can you please get me the date that this memory signifies?"

"It will take me an hour. Since I cannot leave you alone with the Pensieve, you will have to come with me."

"Yes, of course, my apologies."

An hour later, Albus sat on a seat in Amelia's office, looking every bit the old man he was.

 _23 September 1995_

The date felt like something equal to a punch in the face. It was the date of the trial. How could they have taken all the 'evidence' at face value? He was bitterly reminded of the time Sirius had questioned whether or not they really analysed the evidence or just ran to their own conclusions without so much as a sideways glance. What a horrible thing to happen to a man that was proving them all wrong.

Harry had no right to forgive them.

Things were slowly spiralling out of control for Albus. It was becoming clearer that Harry _was_ framed and they all fell for it like hungry wolves.

Amelia mirrored his troubled visage, finding an increasing headache forming in the midst of the news.

"Although this serves to prove that he wasn't involved in the incidence, the Veritaserum will still be used as a counter. Given the fact that it has never failed before, it will most likely favour against Harry."

"Yes, I'm aware. Is there anything we can do about that?"

"Well, we both have memories of the case since we were the most involved."

"A Pensieve then?"

"Yes."

Albus and Amelia watched as the trial played out from their memories. They watched every moment of Harry's confession.

Immediately, Dumbledore could see a problem.

"Do people usually fight off Veritaserum to this degree? Every time Harry is being asked a question, he seems to be fighting to answer."

"Now that you mention it, it should not be possible for a mere teenager. Adults are more likely the ones to try and fight off the Veritaserum's affect because of their mature minds. Harry should have been completely under its influence."

"That still doesn't give us much," Dumbledore said.

"I remember you saying that the scar on Harry's forehead was connected with their link…"

"Yes, I remember that conversation," Dumbledore concurred.

"What if the scar gave some type of indication that something was happening? I'm sure it's a stretch…"

Oh, no, Albus thought. That's not a stretch at all.

"That's a marvellous idea, Amelia. We should get to it quickly."

"But how do we go about it? What's the right way to see if the scar is involved in some manner?"

Dumbledore thought about it. A marvellous idea struck.

"There is a way to do this… But it has to be timed."

"What do you mean?"

"There were certain instances where I noticed Harry giving profound struggle."

"You mean when he had to answer a direct question."

"Correct. Switch back to the memory where he was questioned about the six witches."

"Will do."

The memory came into view.

 _"Mr_ _Potter, were you at the location that your memories indicate at the time of the murders?"_

 _"... Mmm… ng… Y-Yesss."_

 _It was as if time stopped. There were gasp_ _s_ _all around the courtroom. Even Dumbledore could not keep his shock in check as he heard Harry's confession._

 _"Okay," the prosecutor continued. "Did you murder the six girls?"_

 _An uncharacteristic smirk played on his devoid face. "Ngg… Oh, yesss and a lot… ngg… more than that."_

"Okay, Amelia, repeat the segment."

As Amelia repeated the piece of memory, Dumbledore swiftly got to work.

"Magicae Revelio!"

Nothing out of the ordinary happened.

"I guess it was hoping for a little too much that a memory could be manipulated to such a degree," Albus sighed.

His eyes suddenly widened.

"Stop, Amelia!"

"What is it?" she asked, perplexed with his haste.

"He's… speaking."

"Well… I should guess so since he's answering questions."

"No! You don't understand. Those gaps, those pauses that he takes before answering as if he's struggling… his mouth is moving."

Amelia stared at the frozen image. Could it be? She repeated the memory again.

 _"Mr_ _Potter, were you at the location that your memories indicate at the time of the murders?"_

 _"... Mmm… ng… Y-Yesss."_

 _It was as if time stopped. There were gasp_ _s_ _all around the courtroom. Even Dumbledore could not keep his shock in check as he heard Harry's confession._

 _"Okay," the prosecutor continued. "Did you murder the six girls?"_

 _An uncharacteristic smirk played on his devoid face. "Ngg… Oh, yesss and a lot… ngg… more than that."_

There it was. She repeated the memory a total of three more times. Albus was right, Harry's mouth was moving, although inaudible.

"Alright… alright," Dumbledore said more to himself, trying to qualm the rising excitement of a new discovery. "Amelia, is it possible for you to increase the volume of the memory?"

"This will be the first time I've ever done this. Please excuse any mistakes on my part."

The first attempt nearly blew their eardrums off.

"Apologies, Albus," Amelia said with a wince, a high-pitched sound still ringing in her ears.

"It's quite fine, Amelia. May you please try again?"

Amelia nodded.

This time it was much easier. And both of them felt their mouths dry up at the result.

 _ **"Mr**_ _ **Potter, were you at the location that your memories indicate at the time of the murders?"**_

 _ **"... Mmm-**_ _No_ _ **-ng-**_ _No_ _ **\- Y-Yesss."**_

 _ **It was as if time stopped. There were gasp**_ _ **s**_ _ **all around the courtroom. Even Dumbledore could not keep his shock in check as he heard Harry's confession.**_

 _ **"Okay," the prosecutor continued. "Did you murder the six girls?"**_

 _ **An uncharacteristic smirk played on his devoid face. "Ng-**_ _No, I didn't_ _ **-Oh, yesss and a lot-**_ _I didn't_ _ **-ngg-**_ _do it_ _ **-more than that."**_

Albus felt the wind knocked out of him.

" _ **Ng-**_ _No, I didn't_ _ **-Oh, yesss and a lot-**_ _I didn't_ _ **-ngg-**_ _do it_ _ **-more than that."**_

It was barely said above a whisper, but the words rang loudly in the Headmaster's ears.

Harry was _innocent_. Voldemort tricked them all.

Why didn't he ever think more about the connection before?! Albus cursed his carelessness. The whole trial, the entire trial, Harry was being manipulated. He should have seen it! How could he not?! A part of him knew that the whole thing was off from the very beginning! How could he wait until the situation became unsalvageable?!

There was no time to lose.

He and Amelia rushed to the Minister's office. But upon arriving, they noticed that he wasn't there.

"Where's Minister Fudge?!" Dumbledore asked frantically to Fudge's assistant.

"He's in the council room. The Wizengamot are having an important meeting."

"And why wasn't I informed of this meeting?" Amelia asked, astonished.

The secretary shrugged. "I'm not sure, Madam."

"There is no time to discuss this issue. Let's hurry, Amelia."

They arrived at the council room in record time. As expected, the doors were closed.

But Albus didn't let the implications of an important meeting stop him. There was a boy who was wrongfully imprisoned withering away in his cell. Truthfully, he'd be damned if anyone tried to stop him.

He barged into the room with all the authority he could muster.

"Cornelius! I have detailed evidence of Harry's innocence!"

Dumbledore felt a chill run up his spine. Years of experience had equipped him with the ability to sense trouble. It was too late, however, as a wand pointed directly next to him.

Dumbledore glanced at each side of him and was shocked at what he saw: two Death Eaters, waiting at either side of the doors.

Amelia was also held at wand-point. She could do nothing but raise her hands in surrender.

"That's wonderful to hear, Dumbledore!"

Dumbledore felt fear rising at an enormous degree as he turned to the voice that spoke.

Voldemort, the Dark Lord, sat casually in the same seat that Harry occupied during his trial. His wand was pointed squarely at his former Professor, patiently waiting.

Dumbledore noticed that all the Ministry officials in the room – including Fudge – sat on chairs nearest to Voldemort and were surrounded by Death Eaters.

How did Voldemort evade the wards? Where were the Aurors? It was impossible, unless… someone let him in.

Dumbledore was staggered in place. The Ministry was compromised all along?

"Now, now, no need to stand, old chap," Voldemort said, smiling gleefully, moving his wand in an authoritative manner. "Sit down! Take a load off and relax!"

Dumbledore followed the order and sat on an empty seat that seemed to be just for him.

Amelia followed as well, sitting in her own chair.

Voldemort graciously stood to his feet with his wand by his side now. "Lock the doors."

The Death Eaters by the entrance obeyed their master.

"I'm so glad that we finally have ample time to chat. I have been _dying_ to speak to you all."

A lot in the room shivered at the emphasised word. The entire room was still shocked senseless that Voldemort, who Fudge had claimed was not back, was standing right in front of them.

"To… qualm any queries, yes, I'm back and feel much, _much_ better than ever. A large part of that is owed to our very own Wizengamot. You were all perfect, brilliant. I could have never pulled off such a feat without your timely assistance. And for that, I _thank_ you."

He bowed to them and they were shocked some more. A lot of them knew what he was referring to, but didn't quite understand. One of them being Fudge.

"What are you thanking us for?" Fudge spat, knowing full well that he was looking at death in the face.

Voldemort rose up and his red eyes widened. "Dear me. It appears that in my haste, I haven't shed some light on what happened… I'm pretty sure you have a nice picture of that, Dumbledore?"

Albus grimaced, hating it even more that Voldemort was mocking him. "Tom…"

"Say it, Dumbledore! Say what you came to say…! Oh, you can't do it on your own? Then let's do it together! Now, follow me… Harry Potter is…?"

Albus' head dropped. He stared at the ground.

Voldemort viciously forced the Headmaster to look at him with his wand. "Tat, tat, tat, Dumbledore! You need to play along! Now, come on… Harry Potter is…?"

"… Innocent."

"Yes!" cheered Voldemort, clapping appreciatively. "Harry Potter, the _Boy-Who-Lived_ , the _Saviour_ of the Wizarding World, the _Defeater_ of Lord Voldemort, the _Murderer_ of wizards and witches… is _innocent_! Hahahaha!"

Voldemort cackled loudly, it took little time for his fellow Death Eaters to join him. After a good laugh, the Dark Lord sighed blissfully.

Dumbledore felt tears start to sting the inside of his eyes. This was horrible. Tom had them at his mercy, and he was showing none of it.

"You there!" Voldemort pointed at Percy Weasley, who was scared stiff but had a quill and paper.

"Y-yes?" Percy answered.

"Are you still taking notes?" Voldemort asked in a kind voice, but the sinister smile morphed the idea.

"Y-yes, sir, every word!" Percy hastily answered when he noticed the Death Eater next to him seemed a little too wand-happy.

"Good, boy!" Voldemort turned to a woman that did not look like she fit in the room. "And you, girl?"

"Yes, sir, every word."

"That's what I like to hear! By tomorrow, the entire world will know that there is no longer a _'light'_ to get in the way of my goals!"

"So, you _did_ control Harry at his trial?" Amelia said.

Voldemort whirled to her. "Ladies and gentlemen, wizards and witches of all kind, she figured it out! But wait, don't say anything more. I want to savour this moment…"

He briefly closed his eyes and opened them again after some time. He sat down on his chair and got comfortable.

"Now, I'm going to explain why my initial intimidation of the Ministry was _thrown_ out the window the moment Harry Potter, of _all_ people, was sent to _Azkaban_!"

"You see, the idea to frame young Mr Potter came to me like lightning. It was unexpected but so appealing. I had easily rigged the Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts to suit my needs. I was surprised how well things played out in my favour. I had rigged the stupid _cup_ to kill Harry in case he escaped me… I revived to full form, we duelled, and guess what? The inevitable happened. Harry had thwarted me… again! I cannot begin to tell you how frustrating that is. It's like trying to catch a mouse in an enormous manor! You'd be daft to try! So, I made plans, many, _many_ plans. I wanted to make sure that if one didn't work, then the other would!"

"Why are you telling us this?" an official asked.

Voldemort looked at her like she had grown a second head. "Why else would I be revealing myself? I want the entire WORLD to know that their precious _saviour_ had fallen because of me… and _you._ "

Everyone kept their mouths shut… except for Fudge.

"We followed procedures concerning the boy. We did everything by the book! Proof was given-"

"By me-"

"By… you?"

"Haha!" Voldemort cackled at the look on the Minister's face. "Why yes! In fact, _I_ was on trial, not Potter!"

"What?"

"The ingenious thing that is this link to him, this connection. At first, I thought very _little_ about it. So, I'm connected to Harry Potter in a way, what of it? But then I started experimenting; started to see strengths and limitations to our… partnership. It was a _wondrous_ experience. I had more control on the boy than I ever realised. It took a lot out of me every time, but since the boy had no knowledge of Occlumency, it was quite easy."

"What do you mean by connection?" another official asked.

"It is what Albus discussed before. The theory that was dismissed by the Minister," Amelia supplied.

Voldemort gave Fudge an incredulous gaze. "… I am _amazed_ by your idiocy. The one fact that could have actually given you all an advantage… and you _dismissed_ it?"

Fudge flinched at Voldemort's gaze, the biting accusation actually hitting home.

"Well, no matter. You all still did me a favour, and something like that must be _acknowledged._ "

"Now let me continue. Ah! The trial was _particularly_ difficult. Creating false memories for the Pensieve, as quick as possible, was not an easy feat. I had to make sure that somehow, they followed chronologically with Potter's _real_ memories. I was shocked when I saw that you all took the bait! I mean, there were many things _wrong_ with the memories themselves! Even I can admit that I'm not perfect! But it floored me to see things go so smoothly. I had to pinch myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming! Those witches who provided _eye-witness_ testimonies work for me! You're all so easily trusting!"

There was a shocking silence as Voldemort took his time formulating his next words. It was obvious now, to all, that they had been tricked, but not tricked thoroughly. If they had taken the time to actually analyse the 'solid' evidence, then they would have noticed the inconsistencies. It was a crushing blow to some, a slap to the face for others. They had all been too arrogant and full of themselves. And now even an enemy was tearing them down piece by agonising piece.

"And the Veritaserum… Hehehehehe! You know something? Potter had actually tried to fight off my influence. Even under a potion, that boy is a nuisance! But it worked in the end. Everything played out as I'd hoped for. The world saw him as nothing more than a monster working for me. True poetic justice for all the years I had to _suffer_ while that boy reaped the rewards."

Albus couldn't help it anymore. One lone tear escaped his left eye.

Voldemort noticed. "Don't be sad, Dumbledore! This is a good thing! It will teach the boy humility!"

He rose from his chair again. "This is what I don't understand about the _'light'_. You're constantly on a cliff that has a line separating right and wrong. And one mistake, one _slip_ , then your _right_ easily turns into a _wrong_! You're also so focused on being _right_ that you carelessly dismiss the _wrong_ done to get there! Admit it, Dumbledore, you and I are much alike. Except, well, I'm true to which side I'm on."

Dumbledore didn't reply.

Voldemort sighed in disappointment. "And here I was, hoping for a quirky retort… How pitiful."

"Master… they have arrived."

"Good, send them in!"

The door opened and a lot of people gasped in surprise.

Harry Potter was being escorted by two Death Eaters… or being dragged by them.

"Harry?" Dumbledore choked at the sight of the boy. He was so skinny, so dirty. The rag that covered his body was loose on his bony shoulders.

Dumbledore cursed his carelessness again. In the time he had been determined to prove Harry's innocence, he hadn't even bothered to check up on him. Now here Harry was, looking barely alive. His eyes were empty, devoid of any life.

Most in the room visibly cringed when they saw drool carelessly escaping Harry's partially opened mouth. Words couldn't describe how much it ate at them to see an innocent boy in that state… from their doing.

"Ah! Harry, Harry, I hope my subordinates made your transition comfortable?" Voldemort said.

Harry didn't even flinch. He just stared ahead of him.

"Tsk, Harry! Nothing to say? Where did all that Gryffindor bravery go?! Very, very disappointing, Harry," Voldemort admonished.

"Oh Merlin!" someone sobbed out. The sight too much for them.

"So, Harry," Voldemort began casually, "since you've escaped from prison, you are now a wanted fugitive! Of course, you are innocent, but the proper procedures weren't followed to release you! _Another_ thing to thank the _'light'_ for, hey?"

Winces were all around.

"Why?" Albus whispered.

"Hmm… Did you say something?" Voldemort asked.

"Why, Tom? He's just a boy."

Voldemort staggered, looking startled. "He's just a boy? A BOY?! The same BOY that this world _hails_ as a hero? The same BOY that thwarted me for as long as I can remember? The same BOY in your prophecy? The BOY that has a title people worship?! Don't you _dare_ use that pathetic ideology on me! This is no mere boy! Your prophecy made sure of that! The wizarding _world_ made sure of that!"

He faced Harry again. "So, Harry, you and I have a duel that was never finished! According to my intel, the Ministry did not snap your wand. That's good then."

He pointed his wand at an official. "Retrieve it."

"Yes!" she yelped.

He looked at a Death Eater. "Follow her. Kill her if she does not do what she's told."

As the two left the room, Voldemort turned to a perplexed room. "Your Aurors are otherwise… preoccupied. No one will be coming to your safety."

He sat down and pointed to the Death Eaters holding Harry up. "Give the poor lad a seat. He looks horrendous."

Harry's body lolled to the left of his seat.

"Do you want anything to drink? Hm? Juice? Butterbeer?" Voldemort asked.

Harry said nothing, looking at his feet.

"You know, Harry, I don't think you've realised just how much I've hated you. I wanted you broken _so_ badly that I was willing to go through all these theatrics, just to see your hopelessness up close. Now that it's happened, I dare say I feel empty inside. It feels like something died within me along with your innocence. I'm not sure what the proper word is, but I feel like I'm missing something that used to be there. Drive, maybe?"

Voldemort talked as if Harry was listening. Then the wand came.

It was difficult to get Harry to hold it, but the Death Eaters managed.

Once Voldemort deemed him ready, they each stood opposite one another.

"Please, Tom! He's isn't ready for something like this!"

Voldemort ignored Dumbledore. "Alright, Harry, you know the rules. First, we bow."

He bowed and forced Harry to do the same.

"Then raise our wands."

They did so.

"And now let's begin."

"Tom, no!" Dumbledore screamed.

"Tom this, Tom that. I should kill you for your disrespect, but no, I want you to watch. I want you and everyone else to know that no prophecy can stop me… Ready, Harry?"

No response.

"Excellent… Avada Kedavra!"

"No!"

The spell hit him fully. Harry didn't try to dodge it. He didn't move. He was blown away by the force of the Killing Curse and skidded to a stop a few feet away from where he used to be.

He was prone, unmoving. He looked dead.

It was over, in more ways than one.

Voldemort breathed in noisily and exhaled in the same fashion. His eyes betrayed surprise.

"I… did it. I finally got rid of the thorn in my side."

He turned to the crowd. "Look! Look at him! He's gone! And you're all equally to blame!"

Another hearty laugh filled the room.

Voldemort began pacing. "This is so excellent! I… feel rejuvenated! Now no one is going to stop me."

Dumbledore tried going for his wand, but another wand that dug in his cheek forced him to reconsider.

"I bet you're wondering why wanted to do everything here," Voldemort said. "Simple, I wanted to kill Harry in front of you all, so that when the news broke out that Harry Potter was not only innocent but killed thanks to the Ministry's incompetence, there would be… _international_ retribution."

Fudge gasped in horror, knowing exactly where Voldemort was headed.

"That's right, you stupid fool. The name Harry Potter is recognised worldwide! As soon as people find out what _you've_ done, to someone that's _globally_ revered, you will be ruined. The Ministry as a whole will be called into question… It will be _utter_ chaos… And while all this is happening… HeheheheHAHAHA!"

Voldemort raised his wand. "I won't kill any of you yet. It will much more _entertaining_ watching you _destroy_ yourselves. Have a good day! I know I definitely will!"

With that, he apparated along with his Death Eaters.

Amelia immediately got to work. "Secure the Ministry! Contact the Auror Office and make sure we can capture at least one Death Eater!"

She looked down and noticed that Albus had yet to look away from Harry.

Her heart went out to him.

"I'm truly sorry, Albus."

All the chaos was deaf to Albus. He couldn't focus on anything but Harry. He failed… He failed. He failed. He failed. He-

Cough! Cough! Cough!

Harry groaned in discomfort. He struggled to sit upright. His whole body was screaming at the exertion.

He cautiously looked around, finding it an immensely difficult task.

Everyone had stopped what they were doing and looked at him in stunned silence.

Harry's body shook. There was a look in his eye that shocked everyone: complete terror.

Amelia recognised the signs. "Albus, he's starting to panic!"

Harry grabbed his head in agony.

Dumbledore was next to him in the next instant.

"Harry! Harry! Are you alright!" he asked frantically.

Harry cringed at the shout and whimpered, visibly trembling worse. It forced Albus to relax.

"I'm sorry, Harry. Are you alright?" Dumbledore said more gently.

But Harry either couldn't hear him or chose not to listen. He kept shaking violently; his eyes were shut tightly and he bit the bottom of his lip.

Albus immediately tried to cover Harry up with his cloak, but he never got the chance.

Harry vanished. There wasn't a hint of apparition involved. He was just simply gone.

Dumbledore only looked at the floor in complete surprise.

"Did he apparate?!" Amelia asked.

"I… don't know. There was no sound. But that's not the issue right now."

"What should we do then?"

His earlier distress left him. Harry had to have apparated. He had to be somewhere around. "We need to search for him immediately! Tom cast the curse but didn't kill him. We have to find him before Tom realises he's still alive!"

They couldn't underestimate the name Voldemort anymore. The man was truly evil at its core.

"I'll get right on it!" Amelia replied. She turned to an official right next to her. "Find Shaklebolt! Tell him to bring me his best tracking team!"

"Yes, Madam!"

Dumbledore was already leaving.

"Do you have any ideas where to start, Albus?" Amelia called after him.

"No, but I need to hurry and inform the Order of what happened. Perhaps they may provide some help as to finding him."

Every bit of guilt and shame was put aside and urgency was the only thing left in its wake. There was no time to think; there was no time for indecision. They needed to save him. They couldn't afford to fail him this time. He shouldn't forgive any of them. But they owed it to him to keep him safe... Safe, that word had little meaning now.

When Albus died, he hoped that James, Lily, Sirius and Remus would find it in their hearts to forgive him.

He grimaced as he realised that the Weasleys were not going to take the news well. He was sure that they would head to the Ministry demanding blood. But unfortunately, they were equally to blame for this whole mess. He had tried to get them to see reason during his investigation, but they weren't willing to listen to his speculations that Harry _might_ be innocent. No, they wanted solidity, like they believed that there was _none_. Well, once they realised what they had done, it will be _their_ own problem to deal with. They could blame everyone else for as long as they wanted, but if they weren't ready to take responsible action for their involvement, then Albus felt that they honestly didn't deserve to be near Harry at all.

Merlin, what an awful world he lived in.

… No one noticed that Harry's wand was left behind.

* * *

Petunia was extremely angry that someone had the gall to interrupt her family's dinner. She was going to give that person a swift talking to.

"How dare…" She swung the door open in her tirade, but the words died in her throat.

Harry collapsed just mere inches from his aunt's feet.

Petunia could not hold back the horrified gasp that escaped her throat.

It was Harry alright, looking anything but the boy she remembered.

* * *

 _At over 10000 words, I'll end it here for now. Well, there you go. This is aimed to be a lot more thought out_ _tha_ _n the original story. I can't even tell you of the many headaches I dealt with trying to figure out what fit where, but through persistence and a never-say-die attitude, it's done! Three more chapters are already finished as well, but I don't want to post them all at the same just to receive like one review; that would just be maddening to me. So, tell me what you think. I really want to know. Like the first story, I found that talking to reviewers was really rewarding in understanding their perspectives on something. It was very enriching, so I want to hear more from you, guys!"_

 _Until next time, ciao._


	2. When It's Too Late: Part 2

_Hello! How's it going, guys! Thanks so much for your wonderful reviews! I felt ecstatic when I saw that it was 20! Gosh! Wow. I honestly did not expect that much. Hell, I was hoping for at least 10!_

 _Right, then. I noticed a_ _ **reviewer**_ _mentioning if I should change Ron's name to a girl's because it will feel like reading slash…? Now, there are many ways I can explain why that will not work. I don't think I've mentioned it before, but I don't really hate slash. I've read up_ _ **a lot**_ _of it (mostly for the gay jokes… Gay jokes are hilarious) but that's it. I would never in my life write slash because… well, it makes me shiver to think how descriptive I could easily get in the sex scenes (*violating site rules~*). I have nothing against slash, I like certain slash, but I will never write slash. Gay jokes are nice, but if we have to get down and into the dirty details, that's where I say no… no, no, no, no! He put what where? Oh, my God! No! Don't give me ideas!_

 _Sorry… going off topic._

 _ **Andy**_

 _Thanks for the vote of confidence. I too play a lot of video games and watch stuff that talks about them (my best friend always tells me so… and accuses me frequently of trying to "turn" her; still have no idea what that means). Well, all I can say is that you've got a pretty good idea so far. The story has something similar to what you've suggested (no spoilers!)._

 _I think I've answered the questions I couldn't PM back._

 _Once again, please review. I haven't mentioned in this story that English is not my native language, huh? I'm still learning it day-by-day, so I'm bound to make a mistake somewhere here. If you could help with pointing them out, it would do me a world of good._

 _I'm trying hard to rely on my own effort without a beta. Don't get me wrong, my usual beta is forever unavailable (not that I blame her since her new job is demanding). So, yeah…_

 _Another thing: " " are words and ' ' are thoughts, just so you won't be caught off guard._

* * *

 **Chapter 2: When It's Too Late: Part 2**

You're barely conscious. Your mind is fuzzy, struggling to tell where you were and how long you've been there. It takes a lot of effort for you to sit up from your earlier position. You look around, noticing the old, mouldy brick walls and the thick cell doors, which were corroded from years of ill maintenance, right in front of you. You struggle to find the closest wall for support, your breathing is irregular and frequent. It constantly feels like you ran a marathon. It's hard to see anything clearly, even as the torches lit up the foreboding environment. There was no one around.

You look at yourself, barely registering your bony and shaking limbs. You can't recall what happened to yourself. It's difficult remembering anything clearly. Vaguely, you conclude that you're in this state because something terrible happened. It was either you hadn't eaten anything in a long time or you were barely eating anything to sustain your body.

You feel cold; the bare part of your limbs touch the freezing stone. You can't stop shaking. You pull yourself into a ball, trying hard to provide the little warmth that you could to your system. It was all in vain.

The rag that covered your body felt like a rough and thin curtain. It could never shield anyone from the harsh environment you woke up to. But, for some reason, you seem to be wearing it.

You try to think of other things, but end up screaming as another nightmare flashes in your mind. You try not to think of anything anymore, after that.

"Get him out of there."

You look up and see two Death Eaters. Usually, they would be accompanied by Voldemort. It was hard to tell whether you were dreaming this up or if it was real. It became difficult to tell what from what with Voldemort's insistent visions, nightmarish Dementor dreams and a lack of company to keep your sanity in check.

You're too weak to do much of anything as you're hauled out of the cell. Surprisingly, your foggy mind picks up different sensations: hands holding your arms, feet sliding on the stone floor. In a few moments, bright light flashes in your face. You don't even have the willpower to close your eyes. No, your meagre strength would be wasted on such useless endeavours.

A few moments pass before your realise that your feet are sliding on a smooth surface. It's still cold, but it doesn't hurt anymore. Your eyes barely pick out the neatness of the new place. You briefly wonder how out of it you must have been not to notice the changes before.

The two Death Eaters holding you up stop at two, pristine doors. One of them whispers to it. In no time at all, the doors open and you are pulled in.

Most in the room visibly cringed when they see what you're barely sure is drool carelessly escaping your partially opened mouth. You couldn't find it in yourself to care. Most of the people in the room did this to you, anyway.

"Ah! Harry, Harry, I hope my subordinates made your transition comfortable?"

You didn't even flinch. You just stared ahead of yourself. You knew for a fact that it was Voldemort talking to you. Yet… your body or mind couldn't register any danger. Your psyche just had too much going on.

"Tsk, Harry! Nothing to say? Where did all the Gryffindor bravery go?! Very, very disappointing, Harry."

"Oh Merlin!" someone sobbed out. You didn't understand what they were sobbing about. Surely, it wasn't about you.

"So, Harry," you heard Voldemort say, "since you've escaped from prison, you are now a wanted fugitive! Of course, you are innocent, but the proper procedures weren't followed to release you! _Another_ thing to thank the _'light'_ for, hey?"

The light? Wait, did he mean these people? You honestly didn't give a damn.

"Why?" Albus whispered. You barely hear it.

"Hmm… Did you say something?"

"Why, Tom? He's just a boy."

"He's just a boy? A BOY?! The same BOY that this world _hails_ as a hero? The same BOY that thwarted me for as long as I can remember? The same BOY in your prophecy? The BOY that has a title that people worship?! Don't you _dare_ use that pathetic ideology on me! This is no mere boy! Your prophecy made sure of that! The wizarding _world_ made sure of that!"

"So, Harry, you and I have a duel that was never finished! According to my intel, the Ministry did not snap your wand. That's good then."

"Retrieve it."

"Yes!"

"Follow her. Kill her if she does not do what she's told."

As the two leave, Voldemort turns to a perplexed room. "Your Aurors are otherwise… preoccupied. No one will be coming to your safety."

He sits down and points to the Death Eaters holding you up. "Give the poor lad a seat. He looks horrendous."

You didn't use what little strength and willpower you had to stop your head as it lolled to the left of your seat.

"Do you want anything to drink? Hm? Juice? Butterbeer?"

You said nothing, looking at your feet.

"You know, Harry. I don't think you've realised how much I've hated you. I wanted you broken _so_ badly that I was willing to go through all these theatrics, just to see your hopelessness up close. Now that it's happened, I dare say I feel empty inside. It feels like something died within me along with your innocence. I'm not sure what the proper word is, but I feel like I'm missing something that used to be there. Drive, maybe?"

Voldemort talks like you could hear him. Then you notice the wand came.

It was difficult for anyone to get you to hold it, but the Death Eaters managed.

Once Voldemort deems you ready, you stood opposite him at a distance.

"Please, Tom! He's isn't ready for something like this!"

"Alright, Harry, you know the rules. First, we bow."

He bows and forces you to do the same.

"Then raise our wands."

You do so.

"And now let's begin."

"Tom, no!"

"Tom this, Tom that. I should kill you for your disrespect, but no, I want you to watch. I want you and everyone else to know that no prophecy can stop me… Ready, Harry?"

No response.

"Excellent… Avada Kedavra!"

"No!"

The spell hits you fully. You don't try to dodge it. You don't move. Your instincts are out of whack. You fly from the force of the Killing Curse and skid to a stop a few feet away from where you used to be.

You lay prone, unmoving and blackout from the impact.

It was over, in more ways than one.

The next time you wake up, you can hear shoes stomping noisily on the ground. Your chest tightens, like it got the wind knocked out of it.

Cough! Cough! Cough!

You groan in discomfort. Your body felt like it was on fire! You struggle to sit upright. Your whole body screams at the exertion.

You cautiously look around, finding it an immensely difficult task.

Everyone has stopped what they were doing and were looking at you in stunned silence.

Your body shakes. Those eyes, _those eyes_ … You remember your nightmares. You remember how much people jeered and looked at you in revulsion. You remember how everyone turned their backs on you; how they threw away all the memories you shared with them. Now, those eyes… _those eyes_ …

"Albus, he's starting to panic!"

You grab your head in agony. It felt bloated, like any moment it would explode from the inside out. Your scar feels like something akin to a searing flame. Your entire body felt hot, but your scare is a different intensity to any sensation. It dwarfs everything. White pain is the only thing in your vision.

You could barely hear someone shouting at you. In your disjointed mind, it sounds accusatory and violent. You cringe and try to hide in yourself

"I'm sorry, Harry. Are you alright?"

But you either can't hear who it is or choose not to listen. You keep shaking violently; your eyes are shut tightly and you bite the bottom of your lip.

You wish more than anything that you were away from these people. Your mind was still jumbled and things were happening too fast for you to understand. You want to run away so badly it hurts. Number 4 Privet Drive pops into your head. You don't question it. You're not stable enough to question anything. You feel wind surround your body for some reason. The next thing you know, you're seated on gravel on a sidewalk.

* * *

Harry's eyes shot open. It took some time before his eyes could adjust to the dim brightness that assaulted him. His body still felt stiff and disjointed. But his mind… his mind was clear as day. He could think more coherently than he could remember. He could feel no sensation near his scar. The lingering feeling had existed all his life. But now… It was _completely_ gone.

How…?

Be that as it may, he could still picture what he had been through in Azkaban; he could still picture all the _nightmares_ that the _Dementors_ subjected him to. But… it was like a fog had been lifted where visions and false memories were concerned.

He didn't have his glasses when he was sent to Azkaban. Everyone was so hell bent on showing him no mercy that they had not bothered to consider that he might need spectacles at all. So, with his vision partially obscured because of that, he could barely see _anything_ then, although the Dementors made the distinguishment difficult, to begin with. But right now… He could see crystal clearly. His eyes picked up every detail of his closet (room). He could tell where all his items were, even though the only light was off. It wasn't very easy, though.

'Okay… think… How did I get here? Why can I think clearly now?' he asked himself.

He couldn't remember very clearly how. But the most recent memory that came across his mind was Voldemort casting that Avada Kedavra on him at the Ministry… Wait, that's right. He was supposed to be dead!

'It doesn't look like I am, though,' he noticed.

How? He remembered feeling the curse hit him. It felt like someone trying very hard to rip his soul out of his body.

'Wait… how would I know? I was a baby the first time.'

He groggily got to his knees. Holy cow! it was like he had five tonnes of gold on his shoulders! His legs shook tremendously from his featherweight body.

"Damn… I feel worse… than crap." It was hard to even bring those words out. His mind was better for some reason, but the rest of his body wasn't. What the bloody hell?

Right, right... He needed to remember how he got here? There was no way that Dumbledore or anyone else would have brought him back. And he couldn't think of a good excuse why anyone would lend him a hand. So, he had no clue how this could come about… and Privet Drive of all places?

" _So, Harry," Voldemort began casually, "since you've escaped from prison, you are now a wanted fugitive! Of course, you are innocent, but the proper procedures weren't followed to release you! Another thing to thank the 'light' for, hey?"_

He remembered correctly. He was technically a fugitive… Maybe not? Voldemort did bring him in front of the Ministry, meaning the Ministry had to have found out what was really going on. Realistically, he should think that they recanted his earlier incarceration. Realistically… The stupid wizarding world didn't do things realistically. Nope! His trial was a prime example.

They should have known that he was being made to take the fall. He knew it, everything was staged. They should have known it if any of them claimed to care about him… but they didn't. They didn't believe him. They believed in a lie, and he had to suffer for it.

He held the Ministry in contempt. He had spent nearly a year in prison all because of them. For what? For false accusations that only _looked_ real on the surface? He was damn sure that Fudge only wanted to see him in prison and nothing else.

The Weasleys… he just hoped that he never saw them again. They made their choice at the trial, even took out their anger on him… Wait, that's wrong, not all of them. It was just Ron and Ginny. In all the months leading up to that beatdown Ron put him through at the trial, Harry was certain it was all the redhead was thinking about. Ron was just looking for an excuse to hurt him. And he had one; oh boy, did he have one. There wasn't a hint of his behaviour then that showed he was at least unsure if the trial was true… No, there was.

 _"T-This...This can't be right!" Ron sputtered, surprising the courtroom._

 _The prosecutor wasn't obligated to talk to people not involved in the case, but seeing an opportunity, he decided to. "After the Pensieve, we've witnessed_ _and_ _Mr_ _Potter's word-of-mouth, you still choose to question our evidence?"_

 _Put on the spot, Ron was flustered, but he spoke out anyway. "I-I know Harry! He saved my sister's life. There has to be a mistake somewhere!"_

Of course, Ron _did_ defend him. He couldn't just disregard the fact that in the beginning, people had _high doubt_ about the trial… Maybe he was being too vindictive? Maybe… he could…

 _"You're dead to me, you hear me, Potter?!" Ron snarled. "Rot in hell, you bloody monster!"_

Fuck that. Ron deserved nothing more than an _arse whooping_.

Hermione was a different story. He hoped he didn't have the pleasure of seeing her again, too. It would get very complicated with her. The rage he felt could explode to the forefront and he wouldn't really be in control of his actions. If she believed in the Ministry, then let her keep her belief.

He wasn't going to bother to think of anyone else. Sirius was a sore subject.

He could hear his aunt and uncle on the other side of the closet door conversing heatedly.

"Why should we keep that freak here?! It's obvious he ran away from those _abominations_!" That was Vernon's voice.

"Why else do you think?! So those other bastards can come here and get him! Do you want them to keep coming here if that freak was missing?!" Petunia shrieked, angry.

"… You're right. It's better that they get him and _never_ bother us again, then keep coming here if they can't find that stupid boy."

'Oh, the door's locked on the outside,' Harry noted, vaguely surprised.

"Exactly," said Petunia.

"But why did you have to leave _food_ in his room?" Vernon asked, sounding genuinely confused.

"And have him die here and us _charged_ for whatever by those freaks?!"

"But… food?"

"I gave him bread that expired! Let him choke on it!"

"Oh… Yes. Eat up, boy! That's the _last_ meal you'll get from us!"

Harry had the distinct feeling that Vernon had spat the last words in his direction before he stormed away.

He looked down. Sure enough, there was a plate of sandwiches just beside his skinny thighs.

Expired bread, huh? Well, the joke was on them, then. His body was used to it… He hoped Azkaban didn't change that little benefit.

His stomach made itself known with a horrid growl. When was the last time he had something close to eatable? He honestly couldn't remember.

Shaking with some anxiousness, he grabbed the plate that his terrible aunt put in his room. He couldn't see the bread properly. The light was still off and he honestly felt too weak to switch it one. Maybe it was a good thing he couldn't see too much in the dark? It would make eating the thing a lot easier… or was that the other way around? Damn, maybe his brain still had some screws loose.

Why did it bother him so much…? Yeah, why? What should bother him more was the fact that his aunt actually _did_ something _for_ him. In all the years he'd known her, she had never – as little as possible – done anything for him, if you excluded abusing him to no end. Still, even if she didn't want his death giving her a horrible reputation, this was pretty new for her.

Should he really accept her _kindness_ so readily, though? She had been arguing with Vernon just outside his closet. It could easily be a ploy to get him to eat the sandwiches. It saddened him to think that they weren't above poisoning him.

'Stop thinking about it. You need to gain your strength and get out of here!'

He dropped the plate down and picked up a sandwich. Gulping audibly, he prayed to God to make the experience bearable.

He chomped on the snack avidly and waited for his taste buds to reject it.

'Arg! Oh, God! It's _horrible_! Horri… ble?'

It wasn't in the least. In fact, it was the most delicious thing Harry had _ever_ tasted when living here. The salted beef bacon provided his taste buds with an impact of flavour; the lettuce helped tone down the intense smack of the bacon and the cheese made the entire experience heavenly. It was so good, so good that he didn't hesitate to finish it off and desperately going for another.

He didn't know when the tears started pouring out. He had been too distracted by his satisfaction until he saw water dropping from his face to the floor.

He sniffed and wiped away the embarrassing evidence from his visage.

Was his body playing tricks on him? Why would Petunia do this? She certainly had no reason to after all the suffering she put him through. Was this a trick by her and Vernon? Did the poison somehow make the meal taste good? Who was he kidding? There wasn't any poison _at all_.

But it confused his already raped mind. Why did his aunt give him these sandwiches? They were the usual portions she would give to that idiot Dudley. So, it made even less sense now.

His stomach couldn't care less about his emotional plight. It eagerly asked for more, which he happily provided.

After an actual healthy meal, Harry propped himself until his ear was at the door. He listened for anything that could give him a clue of what was happening on the outside.

There was not much to hear. The sounds fit the picture of the Dursleys enjoying a normal day. It also sounded like Aunt Marge was around, too.

So, after analysing the situation more carefully, Harry decided to focus all his efforts on escaping. He had a plan but wasn't sure it would work all the way through. Merlin didn't like him, after all.

He set to work packing things most important and that he would need. He wasn't going to go upstairs to get his trunk. He had no time to wait. It pained him to realise that he was going to be losing a lot of valuable materials, like the books that Hermione had habitually sent him as gifts…

On second thought, maybe he was better off. At least his invisibility cloak was with him.

He grabbed a backpack and stuffed a few potions with some muggle money that he had the foresight to convert from his winnings at the Triwizard Tournament.

His family fortune was something he couldn't go for yet. He needed to go into hiding and do it quickly. If either Dumbledore's or Voldemort's side found him, he shuddered to think what he would go through again. He wasn't going to blindly trust anyone anymore. It cost him a year of his life and then some… which he wasn't going to relive now.

After stuffing as many things as he could, which excluded many, many gifts that he received over the years from his 'friends', Harry changed from his rags to normal clothes and stood up on shaky legs.

"At… least they aren't trembling… too much anymore," he softly mused.

He turned his attention to the door. How could he forget… It was locked from the outside.

'I just need my wand and then…'

Uh-oh.

Harry patted himself a few times, failing to register that a few seconds ago he was barely wearing anything.

'Where's my wand?!' he panicked.

Oh… the Ministry. That's the last time he remembered having it.

'Bullocks!'

Now, what was he going to do? He needed a wand to use magic! There was no way he could get out of here without it.

He leant tiredly on the door, already feeling winded.

"How… do I get out?" he asked himself.

He squinted his eyes and focused.

'Think, Harry, think! There must be something! How do I get out? How do-'

Clank! Thud!

Harry had little time to understand the meaning of the sounds before the door suddenly gave in to his weight and opened.

Harry moved back just as it happened. He stared on as the door unsealed fully – his mind racing. Was he caught? Did they find him? He waited fearfully for the inevitable to happen. He waited for someone to reveal themselves to him.

No one came after a full minute.

He could hear Petunia chatting away with Marge like everything was right in the world. He heard Vernon as he guffawed at the Telly. So far, everyone's behaviour indicated that they were none the wiser to what just happened.

He looked at the floor outside the closet. A lock was on the floor. It was the same lock he was sure was used to keep him trapped. But why was it there? Better yet, who let him out? The lock was still… well, locked, but it wasn't connected to the handle situated on the door's framework.

Wait… Had he done that? It seemed so. But it was definitely impossible. How could he have? All he wanted was the door to unlock… and it did?

'Merlin, what the bloody hell are you up to now?' Harry mentally groaned. Things never made sense when it came to him. It was always needlessly complicated.

"Screw… it," he whispered. He wasn't going to waste time figuring out how any of this happened.

He haggardly made for the front door. When he had almost reached it, he felt a looming presence behind him.

"Boy!" Vernon spat, fuming. "What are you doing out of your room!"

Vernon's outburst garnered the attention of Petunia and Marge. They rushed in, not looking happy in the least.

Harry struggled to open the door, but managed. Vernon was still screeching, but at least the big oaf knew better than to let his actions screech louder.

Harry turned around and glared at his uncle, actually shutting him up.

He turned his gaze to Marge and she glared right back.

"I thought you said the boy was taken away for good!" Marge shouted.

Harry turned his gaze to Petunia. She still had that bitchy face on her alright. But after what she did, after that one gesture of… benevolence, maybe? Harry didn't know what to think of her. Oh, the loathing from years of torment was still prominently in place… it just felt a bit tiresome now.

"What the hell are you looking at, freak!" she sneered venomously.

Harry shook his head at it all. He was tired of the same old crap between them. He didn't care if she wasn't.

"Aunt Petunia." It came out much more ragged than he would have liked but it did get everyone's attention focused on him.

Petunia was surprised he called her. She still put up a brave and proud front. "What?!"

"Thank you."

Everyone was completely silenced from the words.

Upon noticing no vehemence, Harry continued, "I… hope… one day… we can move on… from this."

Again, he left people bewildered. But Petunia seemed to understand him, to some degree anyway.

"What are you spouting, boy!" Vernon yelled, angered that he couldn't get it.

Harry merely gave him a dismissive glance.

"Be gone with you!" Petunia yelled. "I'm tired of having your kind here!"

"But Petunia, what about locking him up?!" Vernon cried.

"What? So that he can use that _witchcraft_ to escape like now? Forget it! It's better if he's gone. You hear that, freak? Be gone with and never come back!"

She didn't know why she trembled at the last bit. She didn't know why a lump in her throat almost forced her to stop what she was saying. It had to be anger. Yes, that's what it was.

Harry gave her one more look. It was lingering, as if he was searching for something. He suddenly looked ahead of him. It would be the last time Petunia saw that look.

'Okay… next order of business. Think… Right, clothes. I need to get clothes! Where can I do that? A muggle shop… Which shop?! Think, Harry, think! Right, of course-'

"Get out of here, boy!" Vernon shouted, looking ready to charge from pure rage.

Harry hastily thought of the place he should head.

'Perseus, right? That's where they sell the latest stuff. How-?'

Vernon had his mouth open for a long time as he stared at the empty space his nephew had occupied. He hated magic and this was just another reason why. Seriously, that stupid boy just up and disappeared without even a peep? He hoped he never had to deal with him again. He had a good feeling that it would be the last time.

He slammed the door shut and marched to the lounge.

"I'll be watching the Telly," he said grumpily.

"Good Lord, finally," Marge sighed. "Next time, you should warn me if that boy is here."

Petunia sniffed, "You won't need it. He isn't coming back here… ever!"

Marge nodded. "Good!"

They went back into the kitchen to continue their banter. Petunia was glad that Dudley was away with some friends. He didn't need to go through any of this.

She sat at the table alongside Marge and picked her teacup. They chatted away like nothing ever happened. But after a few minutes in, Marge stopped them.

"Petunia, you're shaking."

She was. She hadn't stopped since Harry left. For some reason, she didn't try too hard to fight it.

* * *

His eyes widened as he stared on in front of him.

Perseus, the clothing shop, was just a few feet away from him.

He hastily looked behind him… He saw no Number Four Private Drive… It was a parking area for cars behind a shopping centre. This had to be some kind of joke. Was he really losing his mind? A second ago, he was talking to his relatives and now…

Maybe he walked here and wasn't aware of it? But it took ten minutes to get here on foot. How could he _not_ have noticed?

'My mind must be more buggered than I realised.'

He looked at his attire and gave a snort of disgust.

"Now… Dudley's stuff… fits even worse."

It was of no matter. He actually needed Dudley's clothes along with a new set. He slowly walked into the shop, took note of how everyone seemed to stop everything and look at him, and tried very hard to be less suspicious… which didn't work.

He picked out two jackets: one leather and the other made of cotton; two pairs of indigo jeans and one black one; a grey shirt (with an amazing detailed view of an alleyway near the Eiffel Tower) along with a black one. He wished he could buy more but it would be a tremendous effort already carrying what he had.

He went to the cashier's desk (strangely, people gave him way). The girl in the back of the desk looked at him incredulously.

"Um… sir… these clothes are quite expensive. We do have a budget aisle near the back."

He felt too tired to get offended. "It's fine... I can afford them."

The girl gave him another look, then she seemingly shrugged and checked the clothes.

"That will be seven hundred Pounds, sir."

That… should be a lot, right? Harry honestly didn't know. He was more used to dealing with Galleons now. This amount didn't seem that much to him.

He gave her the appropriate currency and ignored her shock.

He quickly left the store, intending on heading somewhere he had planned a long time ago.

"Harry?"

The moment he turned, the moment he moved, it was too late for him. He stared directly at Ron and Hermione. He had no clue how they knew where to look for him. But he hadn't expected them. His mind hadn't expected their encounter and he was left frozen. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Ron and Hermione were frozen in place as well. They hadn't expected to locate Harry quite far away from his home. But of course, there was a massive manhunt for him in the area. Molly and Arthur were hell bent on finding him no matter what. They even had to suck up their pride and beg the Dursleys to tell them where Harry had gone. That was met with a door to their faces.

When Dumbledore had broken the news to the Order, everything went to hell very quickly. Molly had been enraged that the Ministry actually hadn't conducted a good trial and essentially tricked them all into believing it, to which Albus had to point out the Voldemort tricked them. The Ministry was just an accessory.

Ginny would not talk to anyone. She had locked herself in her room and barely came out of it. She cried a lot more, too.

Hermione remembered how everyone took the news in their own unique ways. George was just stone-faced. No one knew what he was feeling.

Tonks, though, she just up and left them. They hadn't heard from her since.

Ron was… Hermione couldn't find the words. Ron had taken the news quite well… or badly? The fact that he only seemed shocked for a second and then determined the next still confused her.

For her, it wasn't hard. She sobbed pathetically and was reduced to a crying heap on the floor. She had never hated having a good memory until it repeated her harsh words over and over.

" _I hate you."_

In the moment, she had meant it. She had believed that he was guilty. She hadn't bothered to listen to his pleas. No, the evidence was real… until it wasn't. She had never wished for a second chance more than now. She hated herself to the bone for what she did and what Harry had to go through for their mistakes. Looking at him, just a few feet away from her, made her contemplate suicide as a possible penance for treating him so terribly.

No!

She understood that she had been wrong. She understood that she turned her back on him when he needed her the most. But he _had_ to understand! They _all_ fell for it – not just her! All of them… What did anyone else have to do with this? She couldn't believe the fact that she was actually trying to find an excuse for what happened, for what she did… She hated herself even more after that conclusion.

Harry continued to stare at them in frozen silence. It pained Hermione to see him that way; like he was trapped… like they were his enemies.

She wanted to say sorry so badly. That was all she could think about when she heard the news. She wanted to apologise over and over. She was willing to put up with his possible hate for her, so long as he gave her a chance at making things right between them. A part of felt sorely tempted not to apologise, to justify that everything had played out smoothly because Voldemort was more prepared than they could ever have imagined. Yes, Voldemort was the prime candidate for everyone's fury… But that would be like chickening out, wouldn't it? That will be like deflecting all the wrong she's done to make her feel better. Merlin, was it really that easy to be so selfish and conceited?

No. Screw her pride. Best friends don't do that to each and expect things to go back without proper repercussions. If she had to suffer to get Harry to see that she really was apologetic and would do anything to make up for what happened, then she would have to suck it up and put up with his impending anger. He had the right to be angry at her. She was very darn furious with herself, too.

With Ron, he eyed Harry levelly, noting every detail about his former best friend's form. Harry looked absolutely terrible. He looked nothing like the already thin guy Ron remembered. It looked like a strong gust of wind was enough to blow him away. And the way Harry's cheekbones pronounced the overall undernourished figure was burned to memory.

Ron knew he wasn't perfect. He knew for a fact that he often let his emotions get the best of him, but he childishly defended that _no one_ was perfect and his temper was just a part of him that made him special, _unique_.

Over the years of being friends with Harry, Ron saw signs that made it clear to him that he was no little more than Harry's shadow. Truthfully, it was never blatant. No one just looked at the two of them and immediately gravitated towards Harry instead of him. But the signs were still there. Harry was famous - _everyone_ knew him. He had legends told about him across the globe. Ron was just… Ron. There were no legends. Some people didn't bother asking for his name and he was simply referred to as Harry's best friend. Not only that, but the only reason most people hung around him was for the very same fact: he was Harry's best friend. Even some of Harry exploits, like the Chamber of Secrets, which he _helped_ Harry with, Ron was never mentioned unless as an afterthought. No, it was Harry who was involved in the Chamber of Secrets. It was Harry who saved them all.

He didn't mind it in the beginning. But after years of putting up with it, he had become jealous and envious. Why did Harry have to get _everything_? Being a seeker, getting his name entered into the Goblet of Fire. Why _always_ Harry?! Why did he always have to _prove_ himself while Harry was _handed_ everything to him and more?

After reflecting on the trial, it became clearer that the beating he'd given Harry was more for _his_ sake than for Fred's memory. He had repressed so much bitterness that he could not stop it from spilling out the moment it could. In that moment of beating Harry senseless, he had felt so much better. It was warranted, after all. Fred was killed by him… That was a good enough excuse.

Except now, he regretted _ever_ doing it.

When Dumbledore told them the news of Harry's innocence, it had taken every fibre of his being not seem shaken by it. But he was. The revulsion at what he had done and said had almost made him throw up then and there. He tried to see if there was a way that he wouldn't have to feel guilty about it… Just the thought made him want to go back to the very trial and punch himself; even that wouldn't be good enough.

He had sat there as his mother and father immediately started organising a search party. He ignored the many sobs he heard from all around. His mind was completely blank. Then, he realised with dread how bad things really were now. He messed up. He wasn't a best friend at all. He ruined any chance of that.

" _Rot in hell, you bloody monster!"_

Those were his words… except he felt certain now that they weren't directed at Harry anymore. Ron was the monster… He made it known on that day. It had taken him nearly thirty minutes of mentally berating his atrocious actions before he was determined to find Harry and make things right. An immature part of him believed that Harry would accept his apology. Harry was a nice guy… maybe too nice sometimes. But Ron planned on using that to his advantage. If Harry wanted to beat him up, too, then he would gladly let him. But his conscience would not be able to handle not being forgiven. Yes, Harry would forgive. It would take time for them to be friends again but they _would_ be friends again. Ron was certain of it.

The trio had stood in place for a long time, each with their own thoughts raging in their minds.

Harry wasn't ready to see them. The memories of their treachery were too much to take. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to vent. But he didn't think he was in the right mind to do so.

His body shook. He cursed it for giving away his emotions but he couldn't help it. He was terrified but struggled to understand what he was scared of.

Oh… right. If Ron and Hermione were here, that meant _everyone_ else was close by. There was no way that he was going to be captured. On the off chance that they came here to send him back to prison… He wasn't going back there… ever again!

With adrenaline pumping, he quickly dashed away from the pair, who were momentarily caught off guard. They hurriedly chased after him. His body still wasn't used to so much exertion, so he was much slower than he wanted to be.

'I have to get out of here! Damn it! I don't have a wand with me! Damn it! Damn it!'

Ron tackled him to the ground. The move was a costly mistake. It reminded Harry of the trial when Ron beat him to a bloody pulp.

Harry flailed wildly, trying resolutely to get Ron off of him.

"Get off me!" he screamed desperately, ready for any punches that would come flying his way.

"Ron, get off of him!" Hermione shrieked, furious. "Get off of him _now_!"

"Mate, I'm sorry! Please, Harry, calm down!" Ron said frantically, ignoring either request.

Harry kept fighting him off and Ron had trouble holding him down.

"It's okay, Harry. I'm sorry about everything! I'm so bloody sorry!" Ron choked out, his emotions starting to overwhelm him. "We're taking you somewhere safe! You need to come with us!"

At that, Harry started fighting him off more viciously.

"Stop it, Ron! Are you crazy?!" Hermione cried. She couldn't believe how Ron had just attacked Harry after everything they were told. Her face was pink from anger and she didn't know what to do.

"Get. Off. Me!" Harry snarled.

"Mate, stop fighting! I'm not going to hurt you! But you can't run away on your own!"

Harry bared his teeth at Ron, glaring at him in barely restrained hatred. Although shocked, Ron didn't let up, trying his best to keep Harry pinned until the rest of the family or Dumbledore arrived.

Harry's glare intensified the more he struggled. "Get off!"

"No!"

"GET OFF!"

Time stopped.

It felt that way to the both of them. It felt like everything froze around them as they looked at each other. Neither could move and everything was quiet.

Harry stared at Ron with surprising intensity. It was as if something was happening to him. He felt something surging within him, like a harmony of emotions were rushing to the surface. It felt like magic was involved somehow. He could feel the familiar sensation from his magical core releasing magic… Wait, what? He could actually _feel_ it. He could actually feel his magic, _every_ part of it like it was natural. And the control… there was _no_ control.

Ron stared at Harry in frozen shock. His mind couldn't comprehend what was happening. It struggled to rationalise the event. But his body felt odd… and his mind…

He could… see many things clearly. He was aware of every inch of his surroundings, like he could see everything around him without eyes behind his head. He could… feel stuff, too. It didn't make any sense… but he… _felt_ Harry; felt everything from his thoughts to his emotions. Ron wasn't gay. He would never, _ever_ turn gay for as long as he lived… but… he shuddered to think how… close this was.

It was only a second, but to them, it felt like an eternity.

Then everything shifted rapidly.

They were still as they found themselves back at the parking lot. But then, Harry's body _released_ a sort of electric charge. It was golden and very bright. The moment it came in contact with Ron, he was blasted away from Harry with thunderous force.

Hermione watched, horrified, as Ron flew straight over her head and thudded to the ground a few metres away from her.

Harry convulsed on the ground. His body felt twitchy and there was an occasional sound of static electricity now and then. He shut his eyes tightly. His emotions were even more jumbled. He just wanted to get away. He didn't care how cowardly he felt. He wasn't ready for them yet. He needed more time!

'Please! I need to be somewhere, anywhere but here! For the love of God! Just this once, Merlin! Help me!'

Hermione was torn on who she should check on to make sure they were okay. That option was taken from her when Harry disappeared in front of her eyes.

She couldn't stop staring at the space he occupied. She studied apparition in great detail. That was in no way apparition. It was _similar_ … but wasn't?

She turned her attention to Ron when he groaned. He sat up on his butt.

She didn't give a damn that he might have been hurt. She didn't care at all about him at the moment. She stomped to him, went on her knees and slapped the living daylights out of him.

"You are such an _idiot_!" she yelled, rising to her feet in rage. She wanted to do a lot more than hitting him, but she didn't think she would stop after that.

Ron held the stinging cheek and sighed. He deserved that. He knew how she would have reacted. That's why he hadn't told her what he had been planning. Well, it backfired anyway.

"I'm so-"

"Don't!" Hermione hissed, looking away. "He was right there, Ron… _Right there_! Why…?! Why?! Why?! Why did you do that?!"

"He was running away!"

"… Don't talk to me!" She walked away from him in a rush, not once looking back.

Ron sighed again. Bullocks. He made a mess of that one, didn't he? Now that he thought about, it was such a stupid plan, to begin with. Merlin, he was just _terrible_ at owning up, wasn't he?

He looked at where Harry had been before…

What?

He looked at his body. There was a tiny circle around his midsection with a line that stretched to the exact place Harry had been seconds ago. It was a little bright azure but hard to notice. Was he seeing things? It disappeared after a few seconds.

He didn't have time to find out what it was. He needed to head back to the others and regroup. He had to apologise to Hermione and keep on the search for Harry. For some reason, he disappeared without a trace. He was hoping Hermione could explain what type of magic it was.

* * *

With his eyes still shut, Harry noticed the different sounds. Ron and Hermione weren't there anymore. But there was suddenly a lot of noises from cars and commuters. He took a hesitant peek. His eyes widened every second until they were as large as dinner plates.

He was in an alleyway.

It was one-way, dark and murky. He could see the bright streets a few feet in front of him, where someone would usually pass by without a glance.

He looked around. The alley was filthy compared to the streets a few feet away. Then, he did a double-take.

The Eiffel Tower, a few blocks from where he was, but still _clearly_ visible.

Now, Harry knew magic worked in strange ways and sometimes there wasn't an explanation to it. But, there was no possible way that he was in _Paris_.

'Okay… just relax… What the _hell_ is going on?!'

How did this happen? Why was this happening to him? Why _Paris_? He wasn't linked to it in any sort of way…

Then it hit him.

He quickly dropped his backpack to the ground and opened it. He took out a grey shirt. There was a picture of an alleyway near the Eiffel Tower. The details were exactly the same. He was in the very same place that the picture depicted.

'So… Was it me? I really travelled country-to-country just like that?'

He staggered again. A series of electric charges shot out of his frame. They were azure. He watched his body, surprised.

'What's happening now?'

Screw it. Magic made no sense. He wasn't going to question it right now. He was still emotionally troubled after his encounter with his former friends.

'Ron never learns, does he? I can't believe… Shouldn't have hoped for anything, then.'

He rose from his position. So, if he was really able to actually _'jump'_ from one place to another from mere thought, then that could actually play to his advantage.

He quakingly took out the only Polyjuice solution he had. He was very careful with it, even if it was difficult. His plan was going into motion now. All he needed was for things to work out his way for once.

He gulped the substance down. It took a little time for it to work on his body. After a few more seconds, he was a completely changed man.

'I hate having to use Dudley as a disguise, but I have no choice.'

The disguise looked perfect. The 'fat' hid any part of his skinny limbs. And the clothes fit properly this time.

He closed his eyes.

'Leaky Cauldron… Leaky Cauldron…'

He had a theory that if he thought of the place hard enough, it would be easy to get there. Although with that, it would contradict how he had gotten to Paris, a place that only flashed in his mind thanks to a shirt.

When he opened his eyes again, he was greeted by the familiar sight: _The Leaky Cauldron._

* * *

 _Sorry to keep it short. I had to cut some stuff out for future chapters because they would have created numerous plot-holes._

 _Harry has powers for no reason… meh. There is a reason, I just haven't explained it thoroughly yet (but you're free to try and guess). Info: the Horcrux is only **part** of the reason._

 _I'll reiterate that this fic is_ _ **not**_ _slash. If it was, I would have definitely said so in the beginning._

 _For those who were hoping for a stronger Harry and not some 'pussy', you'll have to wait a bit, but not that long. The **next chapter** should put that to rest. This **is** a **strong Harry** fanfic, even though it's **not** starting off that way (it's only **the beginning of the story** , to be fair)._

 _I'm really glad people liked the first chapter. I liked it too, but it's going to get a lot more complicated later. You'll be confused AF soon (hopefully temporarily)._

 _I made a promise to myself that if I got at least 10 reviews by a week's time, I would post the new chapter. It's been a week and I've received 20. Awesome, Crab Cakes! Thank you again!_

 _Once again, If you have any questions, you're more than welcomed to get in contact with me. I'll do my best to respond as quickly as possible._

 _Until next time, ciao!_


	3. Picking Up Again

_Hey, guys! I'm back again! I decided to post this chapter up much earlier than I had originally planned (a month from now). It took a while to edit because I kept looking at it and realised things were missing or put in the wrong places. Honestly, I need to stop burning myself out. Gosh._

 _Thanks for the reviews, guys! You're awesome!_

 _I wanted to address a few things before we move on._

 _It seems that some people might be confused by the conditions I laid out in the first chapter. I was surprised when_ _ **plums**_ _highlighted that Voldemort was "Joker"-ish. That's very true. In fact, I_ _ **hadn't**_ _realised that was the case until you pointed it out, thanks… But I really don't get why it was expected that Voldemort would 'feel' like Voldemort and not someone different considering the conditions I put up_ _ **before**_ _the story even began. Remember my 'OOCness for some characters_ _ **is a given'**_ _? Or how about my 'this story will have a_ _ **very**_ _cunning and clever Voldemort'? I have no idea if you decided to skip those two important parts and just skim to the story (although if you were complaining about another condition that I made and clearly have_ _ **yet to break**_ _, I have high doubt that you didn't read everything I wrote). I am not going to get into an argument of defending what I've written. If it's not to your liking, you have every right to tell me so (within reason, of course). But now that I look at it, the reasons you're given me, sir, don't make much sense to me. In fact, you were practically warned of what was likely to be in the story, yet you highlight the exact things you didn't like but were warned about? If you read this, please explain to me what your review(s) meant. I don't want to run to the conclusion that you were just trying to find anything that was wrong with the story for the mere sake of an ego trip or something. And please don't take that as an insult. I'm genuinely confused, that's all._

 _Another thing. This chapter will be a drastic shift from the first two. The first two chapters were… a prologue, I guess. It was just a set up for the big stuff to come. Also, I did promise that "Whiney" Harry will_ _ **largely be absent.**_ _It doesn't mean he will not be here. It means he will not be in the story for the_ _ **most part.**_ _Felt like I needed to clear that up in the defence of having "no merit"._

 _And the international retribution thing… It seems I need to show more than tell on this. Don't get your hopes up, though. LOL_

 _I'm not a great writer (I suck and I know it) but I'm not the type of person who passes up a chance to improve on that. I'm not taking this story too seriously, but it's still my baby and I love it!_

 _Although I was hoping for the same review count as before, I'm not deterred by the lack of reviews one bit! (*bawling my eyes out!*)_

 _You might have to wait a long time for the next update. I guess it mostly depends on how this chapter is received. I don't know._

 _Shit, 500 words for just an A/N? I might be more invested in this story than I thought…_

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Picking Up Again.**

Albus sighed for the hundredth time that day. Memories from a past filled with fondness and cheerful banter had all but been replaced by the nightmares of the present.

He never regretted anything more than failing someone for the sake of the 'greater good'. He had never regretted his tendencies to always over analyse things and ignore the signs until it was too late… until now, when things had swiftly spiralled into a series of pandemonium. The constant reminder of his negligence stood out proudly in the papers, posters… anywhere there was a crowd of people.

Voldemort.

He was definitely quite active. News of him was global. In fact, the news of his resurgence reached the far ranges of Europe within a day of the events that transpired in the Ministry. As Voldemort had stated, it had been _utter_ chaos, although not explicitly in line with his assumptions. There was mass panic in Wizarding Britain by such a revelation. People hounded and barred their homes. Public areas had nearly emptied by a week. Everyone knew that it wasn't safe anymore – that dark times were upon them again. And Harry…

Dumbledore shook his head. He needed to focus on the now. The past was done. No matter how much he hated himself for what happened, he still had a duty to fulfil.

"To think it's already been two years," he mused softly, forlornly.

"What was that, Professor?"

Dumbledore looked down to his right side. "Merely and old wizard thinking of regrets, child."

"Oh…"

Dumbledore looked ahead of himself again. It had been some time when he entered the Leaky Cauldron with more reason than passing by from the wizarding world to the muggle one. No, today was far different. After two, long years, Albus knew that things would never be the same in the next few minutes.

"Do you feel anything?" Albus asked his companion.

"… Well, yes, Professor. But… it's difficult to say whether it's a certainty or not."

Albus smiled. "Given I barely understand it myself, I think we can trust your judgement."

"…"

"Shall we go in?"

"… Yeah."

Dumbledore assisted his companion in apparating to the inside of the Leaky Cauldron. It was obvious from the start that things were grim around the place. There was barely a soul in sight. Tom, the innkeeper, was slouched at the front desk. He had a surprised look on his face when he noticed the newcomers that visited. But it was soon replaced with confusion.

"Greetings, Tom," Albus said kindly.

Tom smiled and returned the greeting, "Albus! Good to see you! It's been quite a while."

"It has, Tom," Albus said as he approached the man. "I take it business is still not going well?"

"That blasted Dark Lord!" Tom huffed. "Ever since that day, people don't come here to stay or enjoy a meal anymore! All they do is focus on getting to wherever the hell they're going to!"

Albus offered a sympathetic hand. "I'm terribly sorry, Tom. Voldemort has certainly made living hard for everyone."

Tom reflexively flinched at the mention of the name but didn't look like he cared. "I wish things weren't like this. I'm already bald from so much stress! And I'm just too depressed to dress formally these days."

That looked to be true, Albus determined. Tom wasn't wearing his usual buttoned shirt and suit vest. It had been a long time since Dumbledore at actually cared to take notice. Tom looked a far cry from the man he remembered in 1991. He slouched more, and he looked quite ill. It was a pretty gloomy sight.

"Things will change for the better, Tom. You just need to have faith."

Tom snorted, "After two years of no one doing anything to that monster? No thanks."

"People are doing what they can to stop him."

"I think you mean trying. The public isn't dumb, Albus. They know for a fact that Voldemort is more danger than even the Ministry can count for."

Albus nodded in agreement. There was no point in trying to sugar-coat it. "Be that as it may, everyone involved is doing the best they can to deal with the matter."

"I think two years is enough to bet on the other side."

Albus twitched at the obvious jab. "Don't bet too quickly, now!"

Tom chuckled, "No promises."

He turned to the other person next to Albus. "Hello, Miss."

"Uh… hello."

Tom stretched out a hand. "My name is Tom – and you are?"

The girl looked at Dumbledore.

"Tom, I'm sorry to interrupt this but we're here on urgent business."

Although confused, Tom looked at Dumbledore warily. "What do you mean?"

Albus looked at the girl. "Anything?"

"Upstairs."

Albus nodded and sighed, "Right under our noses this entire time." He turned to Tom. "You're a good man, Tom. I commend that you have a kind heart and care very much for people."

"Why thank you, Albus… Where is this coming from?"

"Tom, I need you to help me."

"Sure, whatever you need."

"Please give me permission to see Harry."

The was a gap filled with nothing but silence.

Tom coughed a few times. It seemed too exaggerated. "Which Harry are you talking about?"

"Tom… please. I know that he's here. I need to speak to him urgently."

But Tom furrowed his brows. "Albus, there's no Harry anywhere in this pub. I think you're mistaken."

"Maybe he's right, sir," the girl added.

"Do you still have the same feeling?" Albus asked her.

"Well, yes, but-"

"Then we need to follow that. You mustn't doubt yourself."

"…"

He focused on Tom again. "I can understand that you're trying to divert us away because you want to protect him, but I'm pleading with you, Tom, please let us see him. It is of the utmost importance."

"… Sorry, Albus… he isn't here."

Albus nodded in understanding. "If I promise not to do anything to him… If I promise just to talk to him, will you let me? I'm not here to take him by force or the like if that's what you're worried about. I have no intention of forcing him to do what he doesn't want to. I'm asking your permission as a friend. I know Harry isn't fond of many people, myself included, and I completely understand. But you have to let me speak to him. He's in more danger than he realises."

Tom's furrowed brows rose at the admission. He slouched a little more and seemed that he was thinking it over. "… What danger is the boy in?"

Albus gave a thankful smile to the innkeeper. He turned to the girl next tom him. "I'm sorry, but I will need to tell him everything for him to understand."

The girl was hesitant for a moment but reluctantly nodded her head.

"Alright, Tom, you see…"

* * *

Harry was seated on his bed, heavily invested in reading a book. There were stacks of them near the counter next to his bed, beside the dresser, and a few more just next to his body.

The years out of Azkaban and the public eye had done him some good. His body had filled out and was no longer blistered with skinny undertones. His height had also improved thanks to taking extra care of himself. But, he had changed more than that. The green eyes briskly screening the book he was reading were much sharper and colder. His body language was more introverted – very close to himself. And his attire consisted of clothes that actually fit him without the need for transformation.

Two years ago, he had been a shell of himself, literally on the brink of insanity. He had made a desperate attempt to hide from everyone he knew using the Leaky Cauldron as a cover. Honestly, looking at it now, it was pure luck that nobody suspected this place. It was also pure luck that Tom had allowed him to stay, even though it hadn't been easy.

* * *

 _Harry, disguised as Dudley, hurriedly walked into the Leaky Cauldron. It was a madhouse of activity. People was scrambling, talking animatedly, some even crying._

 _Harry was honestly confused by everything. What was wrong with these people? The thought rested when he spotted Tom. The fact that the place seemed extra busy would give him a much-needed edge in blending into the crowd._

 _He didn't think it would work this well for him. He had expected someone waiting for him here in case he somehow managed to escape the people chasing him. But everyone was too busy to pay him any mind._

 _He approached Tom who was behind a desk. The man looked disgruntled, eyeing the scene in front of him with a frown on his face._

" _Hello… sir?"_

 _Tom looked at 'Dudley'. "Hello, boy. What can I do for you?"_

 _Harry took out Galleons from his backpack. "I would like… a room please."_

 _Tom's frowned deepened. "You want to stay here? Haven't you heard the-"_

" _I couldn't get all my stuff out of the room! There's no time! You can throw it away!" a patron said in a rush, holding a staggering amount of luggage. He quickly left them._

" _Yes, sir," Tom murmured and sighed afterwards._

 _He turned to 'Dudley' again. "As you can see, people are in a hurry because He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named is back. He killed Harry Potter then disappeared to Merlin knows where. You should tell your parents that it isn't a good idea for a young one like yourself to be all alone. Where are they, anyway?"_

 _Although completely shocked by the news, 'Dudley' shook his head. "I'm an… orphan, sir. I don't… have any parents."_

 _Tom was surprised. "Dear boy, I'm sorry for that."_

" _It's… alright, sir."_

" _Well, if you're looking for lodging, I'm not sure if I can recommend this place, in light of what's happening."_

" _Please… sir. I'll pay as much as… you want just to stay here for a… few days. Please… I have… nowhere else to go."_

" _I don't know… What's your name?"_

" _Dudley, sir."_

" _I'm Tom, pleased to meet you… I don't know, Dudley. You're better off somewhere else, I reckon."_

" _Please… I literally have… nowhere else to go!"_

 _Tom tilted his head to the side, considering it. He eyed the Galleons 'Dudley' had placed on the table. "Alright, sure. But if this place shows any signs of danger, you'll have to leave… for your own safety."_

" _I understand… and thank you so much!"_

* * *

It had been relatively easy prolonging his stay to two years after that. When Tom had discovered his true identity by accident, the landlord only pried as to the reason, which he had provided reluctantly. Tom chose to keep his secret, understanding that his safety would be in danger if he babbled.

Harry was also glad that Tom understood that he didn't want to associate with any of his former allies because of what happened at his trial. Tom had apparently been well informed of his innocence that day, as was everyone else. The news had broken out quickly. The Daily Prophet had published a tabloid that had an article which stressed what _really_ happened at the trial. Harry had been shocked that they had all the information (with Voldemort's confession) only a few hours after the events transpired. He had suspicions that someone from the paper had been right in the room when Voldemort confessed to orchestrating his imprisonment. But, to this day, he had yet to confirm his inference.

He held a book called _'The Guide to Understanding Curses – Not for Children'_ in his left hand while the other was preoccupied with wandlessly twirling a spoon in a cup on the drawer that was next to the bed. Upon his request for books to increase his knowledge of magic, Tom had provided him with them, claiming that they were from people that left their stuff behind after their stay and never came back for them. Some of them were rookie Aurors or just average wizards. Harry had been very grateful to the hunched-over man and had taken the opportunity to understand what was wrong with his body and how magic came into play.

The first few months in the Leaky Cauldron was spent in trepidation. He dreaded being discovered, dreaded the very notion that he was still among the wizarding community. But he had no choice. He could easily run away to another country, he had all the means to, but he knew it wouldn't be that simple. He could get caught. He didn't know the outside world aside from Britain. He would essentially be walking blindly. He was not going to take chances. So he opted to hide right under their noises, using the least likely place for them to search for him.

As the months pressed on. His mind became much like it used to be. Of course, he was still a bit twitchy, but it was bearable compared before. He resolved in one thing then: killing Voldemort at all costs.

He had a massive grudge. He was degraded, humiliated and tossed aside because of that bloodthirsty maniac. He had suffered torment all for Voldemort's enjoyment. Harry had never felt so much loathing until Voldemort framed him. It was obvious that the feud between them had always been personal and naively thinking that it wasn't was what cost him. He underestimated his foe, given that he was still only fifteen to really think about such matters. But Azkaban changed him. It had shown him once and for all that he was alone. There was not one person he could trust to help him. If he was going to defeat Voldemort, he needed to get stronger by himself.

He started experimenting with the 'wandless' magic that his body seemed to exhibit, trying to figure out its strengths and flaws. He discovered that, for some reason, his body was releasing bucket loads of it. He read in _'Magical Core – Accelerated Learning'_ that a magical core is where a witch or wizard's magic was created and stored. When one cast spells, the core released magic to accommodate the demand, then created more magic in place of what was lost. The more someone practised magic, the bigger the core became. If someone were to use too much magic, they could easily deplete what the core had stored and succumb to exhaustion. Using too much magic would never be fatal because the core was structured in a way that it kept magic that was not available to the caster. This magic preserved the caster's life. It was known as the core's 'lifeline'. Reading that information was an eye-opener. It gave Harry a basis to expand on.

He studied further and realised that he shouldn't be able to cast wandless magic at all. He was inexperienced; his core would be too small. It wasn't supposed to be possible, especially considering his traumatic experience at Azkaban. The magical core relied as much on his experience as it did on his physical structure. He had yet to figure out why he was somehow defying documented reasoning.

He moved from understanding why this was happening to him to how he could use it to benefit his cause. It had taken studying simple spells to understand the basics of what he could do. There were many things he couldn't do.

He couldn't cast an attacking spell wandlessly. The only spells that he could use properly mostly concerned self-preservation. He didn't understand why he was limited to that, but he was determined not to quit. It had paid off, for it seemed he was barely able to cast the Disarming Charm, which wasn't necessarily an attack spell, but he could never do it until just a few weeks ago.

Everything was going smoothly. He had dedicated two years to learning as much as possible about magic. He often studied too hard and barely slept a wink. He didn't like to sleep much…

But soon, he would be strong enough to face Voldemort. Soon, he would have his sweet revenge and relish in the Dark Lord's destruction. It wasn't for the wizarding world; it was for him and his beloved parents who died for him. He needed to get stronger. He wasn't going to stop until he did.

A knock at the door disrupted his thoughts. Harry raised an eyebrow. Why was Tom knocking instead of announcing himself like he usually did? His eyes narrowed and he was swiftly on guard. He could sense that something wasn't right.

"Uh… Harry? You have visitors."

That solidified it. He had been discovered. He was sure that Tom wasn't involved in it, but this was still dangerous.

He used a Glamour Charm on his body, turning himself into a tall, bearded man wearing a suit and a cloak around it. It would be useless trying to run… yet. He wasn't going to make it easy on whoever came here.

He opened the door and was immediately greeted with the sight of Tom with Dumbledore and a young girl.

"I'm Harry. How may I help you?"

Now, Albus could _easily_ see through the Glamour. Harry seemed inexperienced with using it. Even so, the Headmaster was completely astonished. He knew that Harry didn't have his wand with him and couldn't possibly cast a Glamour with it, still. He couldn't stop his eyebrows rising clear from his eyes.

"Most… impressive," he breathed.

"Can I help you two?" Harry said, a little aggravated with their silence.

The girl didn't say a word and looked confused. She seemed to be waiting for Dumbledore.

"Ah… sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to be rude. Could you please drop the Glamour? I wish to speak with the real you, if it's not too much trouble?"

Harry stared at Albus for a long time, then shrugged his shoulders and released the spell.

The girl gasped in shock, which didn't go unnoticed by him.

"What is it you want, Dumbledore?" Harry asked tersely.

"Is it alright if we come in?"

Harry pondered the request. He eventually made way for them.

"Thank you," Dumbledore said.

"T-Thanks." The girl squeaked so quietly that Harry wasn't sure he heard her right.

He wasn't in the mood for pleasantries. He stopped Tom from coming in as well. "I've got this, Tom. Could you wait downstairs?"

"Of course… Sorry, Harry. Dumbledore told me things and I felt like you at least needed to talk to him," he said sadly.

Harry shook his head. "You don't have to be sorry, Tom. It's alright. I knew it was inevitably going to come to this."

Tom nodded his head in understanding and closed the door.

Harry got comfortable on his bed while Dumbledore and the girl took seats on chairs.

It was an awkward affair. No one said anything for a long time. Harry continued to stare stoically at Dumbledore and the old wizard didn't know where to begin.

After some time, Dumbledore had enough of the silence. "It's good to see you doing well, Harry. I was dreadfully worried."

Harry raised a brow. "Is that all you came here to talk about?"

Albus flinched at Harry monotonous voice. There were still wounds that never healed all around them.

He produced Harry's wand and offered it to him. "I think you should take this first."

He did, albeit hesitantly, like he didn't believe it. "Well… thanks… Is that all, then?"

"No, of course not, Harry. The Ministry and I wish to give you a formal apolo-"

"There's no need for that. An apology isn't going to change what happened. If your intentions are to retrieve me, I'll have to stop you right there. I don't plan on going anywhere with you."

"I… see. I had hoped that things could be different between us, Harry. You have every right to be upset about what happened. I understand if you… dislike a lot of people now-"

"I appreciate your efforts in trying to prove my innocence when I was in prison," Harry said suddenly. He had wanted to say it the moment he could. He wasn't going to pass up the opportunity.

Dumbledore's eyes widened. "You… knew about that?"

"I read about it. Even though it didn't work out… thanks for believing me when no one else would."

He noticed the girl fidget in her seat but didn't call her on it.

Albus swallowed the lump in his throat at the gratitude. He felt like rubbish again. "I was only doing what was right."

"Unlike others," Harry added nonchalantly.

What was up with that girl and fidgeting?

"Yes… unlike others. Harry, I'm not here to force you to do something you don't want to. But I need you to understand that your safety is my top priority."

"I just said-"

"And I will not force the issue, Harry. But if Voldemort were to realise that you were alive…"

"I will not come back because I can't trust any of you. As much as I appreciated what you did for me, I very much dislike the fact that it took three months in Azkaban for you to figure out that I was innocent _all along_. I dislike you, Dumbledore. I think I have the right to feel that way. And about Voldemort, I'm pretty sure that the world still thinks I'm dead."

Albus turned sad at Harry's words. "I… understand how you feel and yes, the Ministry is keeping your status a closely guarded secret."

"Why?"

"It's… complicated."

"Something I don't need to know, right?"

"No. I'd be more than happy to tell you everything. But this is an urgent predicament. I'm afraid I cannot stay here for long."

Harry stared at him. "… So, there's another reason that you're here?"

"Harry... about Remus and Sirius."

"I think you should stop there. I don't want to hear how sorry they are."

"… I'm sorry, Harry. But… they're gone. They tried to rescue you the day you were sentenced. They were killed by Death Eaters. I wanted to tell you, but I didn't think it would be a good idea with how emotionally unstable you were in prison."

"…" Harry was silent, his face unreadable. Albus guessed that he was slowly taking in the news.

"… So, they believed me from the start?"

"They never had any doubt," Dumbledore answered carefully.

"And paid for that with their lives."

Dumbledore said nothing, choosing not to comment.

Harry nodded slowly. "I'll… mourn their deaths… but not now… Anything else I should know?"

He was definitely taking the news badly but putting up a brave front. Albus wanted to ease him from the sore subject. He wanted Harry to grieve properly for the loss of his godfather. But he knew he couldn't just tell him that it was okay when they were right in the room. Harry wanted to grieve alone, so Albus would let him.

"Yes, there is."

"What is it then?"

Dumbledore glanced at the girl. She shrunk into herself.

Harry looked at her as well. He was right to think that she wasn't just hanging around the old man.

"Who is she?

Albus contemplated how to answer him without any confusion. Upon realising that it was most likely impossible, he turned to the girl. "Go ahead."

Harry stared at her. She seemed very… tomboyish. She wore tight, blue jeans with a black buttoned top pulled up halfway at the sleeves. Although the top did serve to accentuate her generous bosom, which Harry was not looking at (maybe), her bright red hair framed around her face carelessly in a bob cut. It was kind of familiar to Harry. He felt he had seen the style before. Other than the clothes and hair, every bit of her screamed femininity

The girl was obviously nervous. She nibbled the bottom of a plump, pink lips. She kept her gaze away from Harry, refusing to look at him.

Harry wasn't a patient man. "Since she's not going to talk, why don't you explain to me what's going on so we can get this over with, Dumbledore?"

Dumbledore silently encouraged the girl to speak. After some frustrating minutes for Harry, she finally did.

"Uh… Hi… mate." She visibly cringed after she said that as if she was expecting someone to hit her.

Harry raised and inquisitive brow, honestly not expecting that. "Do we know each other?"

"Uh," the girl put her hands on her lap, doing a good job of still avoiding eye-contact, "yeah, we do."

Something wasn't right. The moment he saw the girl, he knew something was odd. He… felt something about her… literally. There was a tiny lurch in his stomach when he had first laid eyes on her at the entrance to his room. He'd quickly dismissed the feeling, but it hadn't stop fluttering now and then.

She was actually very pretty, all things considered. Her high-pitched voice suited her overall appearance. He couldn't distinguish whether his keen interest in her was from her beauty or the fact that she was a bucket full of nerves. Either way, he didn't want to deal with Dumbledore anymore.

"Who are you?"

"Um… I…"

He turned to Dumbledore. "If that's all, can you leave? I'm very busy today."

"Wait!" the girl yelled. "Harry, it's… me."

Harry wanted to rebuke her ambiguous statement, but then he froze. Why did she seem so familiar? Did he really meet her? Why was there a sudden dread that was clinging to his chest?

"What's your name?" he asked in visible frustration.

"… Ron."

"Ron?"

"... Yeah."

"… Ron?"

"Yes, Harry, it's me."

"…"

He quickly turned to Dumbledore, completely dumbfounded. "Ron?"

Dumbledore had the decency to offer an apologetic smile. "Yes, Harry."

"As in Ron Weasley?"

"Yes."

Harry shifted his gaze between the pair. Finally, he said, "What?"

"I know it's a shock. We all felt the same way when we found out."

"… Do I _really_ need to know what happened?"

"Well, I would guess that you hold a little curiosity."

Harry turned to Ron, eyeing him coldly. "Curious about this? Why should I give a damn what Ron does with himself?"

Hurt flashed in Ron's eyes at Harry's attitude, but she wisely kept her temper in check.

"It would seem," Albus began, making sure Harry was focused on him, "that the cause of Ron's change occurred from a certain altercation that transpired when you two last saw each other."

Harry remembered the day clearly. "You mean when he _tackled_ me to the ground?!"

"I'm sorry, Harry!" Ron blurted out, her blues eyes pleading. "You were running away and I was scared that I would never see you again!"

Harry peered at her. "So, that made it okay to attack me… _again_? Do you have any idea what I've been through? Forget it. Tell me what I have to do with this so you both can get out!"

"I'm sorry, Harry! _Please_ believe me! I didn't mean any harm by it!"

"I don't have any reason to believe you!"

Dumbledore could see the situation getting out of hand. He decided to divert the conversation to where it needed focus. "Ron told me that when he had… tackled you to the ground, you did some type of magic that shot him away from your body. After the incident, Ron felt different. And the next day, _she_ came to be."

Ron grimaced. "I really hate being referred to as that, sir."

"I'm sorry, Ron, but it's to eliminate confusion. Social norms cannot be bent all the time. And until we can get you back to normal-"

"I get it; it doesn't mean I have to like it," Ron grumbled, hurriedly cutting off the potentially long explanation.

Harry had been quiet. He processed what Dumbledore said and was reeling. He remembered that moment, where his body released some type of charge. He didn't think it had any significance then; he just concluded that his control of magic had gone haywire because of his unstable mind. He should have known that moment would come back to bite him hard in the arse.

"I did this?" he asked softly, dreading the answer.

"… Well, Harry, we're not sure if it's directly your fault that this happened. We're still studying-"

"In short, I _definitely_ did this."

Dumbledore's eye twitched at Harry interruption. "I wanted to use this opportunity to conclude that, Harry. I'm sure you were curious on how we tracked you."

"Don't really care. With my luck, I'd be surprised if you _didn't_ find me."

Okay, Dumbledore didn't expect that. He had been so excited, too.

He stood up and took out his wand. "The reason that it was possible to find you is because Ron knew where you were. Of course, it took us a long time to understand that due to the fact that we were still trying to figure out how Ron was turned into a girl and how to break the spell. It proved futile to try. It's something I've never seen before."

Harry stared, surprised, at a sheepish Ron. "He knew where to find me?"

" _She_ ," Albus stressed. "For sanity sake, Harry."

"Whose sanity? Yours? Mine was buggered years ago."

It wasn't meant to be spiteful, but it was a clear reminder that Albus had no room to bargain. He decided to move the subject away from touchy topics. "I would like to show you something."

Albus waved his wand. Almost instantly, a line that connected Harry and Ron together appeared. It was golden and quite thick.

Harry jumped back merely out of instinct, but the line stretched to follow him. Ron was staring at her form in complete shock.

"When I studied young… Ms Weasley, I noticed there was a peculiar magical signature attached to her body. I thought that it was a curse, which I am still sure to be the case. When I saw this line, however, it complicated my hypothesis. I had magically revealed this line twice before, and deduced that Ron feels where you are through it. I won't lie and tell you that I understand how it works. In all honestly, I was hoping you would be able to know what any of this means but I can clearly see by your surprise that you don't."

"Of course I don't!" Harry responded. "I wasn't aware of any of this until just today!"

"Understandable, Harry. No one holds it against you."

Harry kept looking at the line, even as he spoke, "This could be used to track me?"

"I think it works in conjunction with Ron. She can feel your presence through it, yes."

"Bloody fantastic," Harry muttered, visibly relaxing somewhat.

This was a problem.

Ron, the person he wanted nothing to do with, could track him now? What sort of nonsense was this? What the hell was wrong with Merlin? Was he mental? How could he pull all of this unless it was to see him suffer more?

"Merlin, you're a coward and a fucking bitch," he whispered venomously.

Albus valiantly pretended that he just didn't hear that.

Harry flopped on his bed. He already knew what he needed to do. He needed to fix Ron. The stupid moron would be a liability if Voldemort ever had the chance to get his hands on him. But that was the problem. He hated Ron. He wanted the redhead to suffer for all the things he did to him. But nope, fate decided that he should be involved, too. And not just that, but turning Ron into a _girl_?

Magic made _no_ sense… It was becoming a mantra, wasn't it?

He jumped to his feet, already formulating a plan in his head. He needed to think quickly. He didn't want to see Ron as far as he could throw him. Well, there goes two years of relative peace.

"What I'm getting from this, which I don't like in the least, is that I'm stuck with… Ron."

Albus sighed, understanding Harry's reluctant to adapt to Ron's change. "That is a large reason why I implore you to reconsider your earlier vehemence of coming with us."

Harry was not happy about that. "It would be better for the both of us to be at the same place to figure this mess out?"

"Very astute, Harry, I'm surprised you came to the conclusion quickly."

"It wasn't that hard," Harry grumbled. "If I'm away from her than she could easily be used by the lot of you to find me."

Dumbledore didn't let Harry's annoyed statement pause him from his intended plan. "Exactly… I-"

"That's not happening."

Dumbledore's words died in his mouth. Didn't Harry understand what was going on? He couldn't just stay here after what he heard.

Harry glared at Ron, who flinched and looked at the ground. "If you haven't forgotten, we're not friends. Loathe as I am to be in your presence, I have no other choice until I can figure out what I did to make you this way."

That statement confused Dumbledore. "What do you mean, Harry?"

Ron wanted to know, too. She stared at him, perplexed.

"He'll have to stay at the Leaky Cauldron. There's no way I'm going anywhere near _any_ other Weasleys. And if they dare come after me because none of your listened, well, I'll make sure that you won't find me again. Take it or leave it."

Ron was flabbergasted. She expected Harry to let her suffer without a second thought. She felt it was kind of justified after what he had been through. For two years, she had tried putting up with her new body. Bloody hell, it was a nightmare. Worse of it all was the fact that they couldn't find Harry to fix the issue until now. She was mad at Harry for doing this to her. But she was madder at herself for hurting him. It made it difficult for her to decide which feeling to focus on and left her in a constant limbo of emotions. Now here was her chance, not only to get her body back but also salvage a broken friendship. She wasn't going to mess it up.

Albus thought about Harry's offer. He realised that there wasn't a choice in the matter. Harry absolutely refused to come with them. In any case, this was as good of a chance as any in understanding what was happening to the lad.

"Alright, Harry, I'll have to discuss this-"

A ward went off. Dark magic had entered the building.

Albus froze. This was not good at all. It was Death Eaters; he just knew it.

How had they found him? He had made sure to be careful. He looked at Harry, who was waiting for him to continue his sentence. No, not again. He would make sure that Harry never suffered again at the hands of Voldemort.

"There seems to be an issue downstairs," he said quickly, already opening the door. "Please stay in your room with Ms Weasley. I will return shortly."

He closed the door and hurried.

* * *

Tom did his best to valiantly stand his ground as a wand dug in his cheek. He was scared senseless but tried to play if off.

Four Death Eaters had entered the place and two of them took it upon themselves to interrogate him.

"Listen, bloke, we're trying to be civil here. Just tell us where Dumbledore and that girl went and we'll leave you alone. You never have to see us again," one said.

"It would be best to follow instructions from the people who have your life in their hands," another chimed.

Tom's lip quivered in fear. He knew that they had no reservations about taking his life, but he thought of Harry and how Voldemort would probably kill him if he was discovered. Even if he didn't like risking his life, Tom felt like it needed to be done. It was for Harry's sake.

The Death Eaters seemed to be getting impatient with him.

"We don't have time to waste with you. Do you really want to drag this out?" one hissed.

Tom still kept his mouth shut.

A Death Eater in front him drew his wand and aimed for his head. "I don't have the patience for this bullshit."

He seemed ready to fire, and Tom fearfully closed his eyes, already expecting the worst.

"You all requested for me?"

Five heads turned to the man who spoke.

Dumbledore slowly descended the stairs with his wand aimed in front of him. He wasn't going to risk endangering Tom, but he needed to be prepared to defend himself.

The Death Eaters immediately released Tom and focused on him.

"Dumbledore, what a lovely surprise. We've come with great news: The Dark Lord wishes to have an audience with you. Seems to have something to do with giving you enough time to wallow in your pity?"

"May I ask how you located me?"

"Why Dumbledore, surely you must know that Death Eaters are _everywhere_ these days. You can't hide from us."

Albus kept his wand ready, and they did the same. It was a standoff.

"We wouldn't want to kill that poor man by accident." The Death Eater pointed at a cowering Tom. "Why don't you just come quietly and bring that nice lass that you had with you."

Horror flashed in Albus' eyes when he heard the men laughing immorally. He dreaded to think what they would do if they got their hands on Ron. Albus knew for certain that he had to do whatever it took to prevent that from ever happening.

The men saw his shift in behaviour and readied themselves.

The Leaky Cauldron was filled with flying spells.

* * *

"What are you doing?" Ron asked, peering over Harry's shoulder.

Harry had started packing away all his items the moment Dumbledore left the room. It didn't take a genius to know that his home of two years was compromised. Why did he let them in again?

He stuffed all his books and clothes into a knapsack that seemed never ending. He grabbed his invisibility cloak and took great care to examine it for any flaws.

"Dumbledore said we should stay inside here," Ron continued.

Harry glanced at her dismissively. "If we stay inside here, we're more likely to die than if we were in a more open area."

Ron frowned at him. "What are you talking about? What would kill us?"

"Are you daft or completely stupid. Can't you hear that?"

Ron glared at him, but listened for… There were sounds of a magical battle. Oh no…

She turned around, intending on helping her Headmaster, then froze when she realised that Harry wasn't planning on staying to fight. He was planning to run away.

"Where are you going?" she asked; she couldn't stop the accusatory tone that escaped her lips.

"Away from here."

"You're not even going to try and help?"

"And needlessly kill myself? I'm not ready to fight and I'm not going to throw my life away. You're more than free to do so, but I'm getting out of here. "

He was ready to cover himself with the cloak.

"What the hell, Harry!" Ron shouted. "Dumbledore needs our help! You never hesitated before to fight the Dark Arts! We're Gryffindor, not cowards!"

She knew then and there that she put her foot in her mouth. When Harry stared at her… She had never seen such rage from him before. His glare was resentful – two jaded pools of fury. It forced her to freeze in place.

He marched to her until they were inches apart. He was a good head taller than her, something that she noticed too late as he looked down on her. She earnestly felt frightened by him.

"Let me make one thing clear, _Weasley_. I'm not that stupid gullible person anymore. You and everyone else destroyed that image. I don't owe you or Dumbledore anything. As for Gryffindor? Do I look like I give a shit about that title? My one goal in life now is destroying Voldemort. Until I'm ready, I'm not going to sacrifice myself for people who didn't hesitate to put me through hell. The only reason I haven't thrown you out by now is because of that fucking thing that connects us. Make no mistake, once I figure out the cure, I want you out my life for good!"

He was caught off guard when he saw Ron tear up. He didn't expect Ron to _ever_ cry – maybe get angry and blow his top. Was it a side effect of being a girl? He didn't want to know. But it honestly disturbed him to see Ron get all emotional.

She wiped her eyes with her arm and sniffed. She stared sadly into his eyes. Harry was caught off guard by how intense her blue eyes conveyed the emotion. That infernal lurch tugged his stomach again a little stronger. He had to viscously slam it aside.

"I'm sorry," she said in a shaky voice.

He stared at her for a long moment. She sounded genuinely regretful. He almost gave in… almost.

"I don't care for your apology. Right now, I need to get out of here."

He brushed passed her and made for the door.

Ron's shoulder slumped. This was awful. She couldn't believe how much he hated her guts. It made her rethink the entirety of her endeavour to slug it out with him and let him vent his anger. No, beating each other up and hoping it will come out with being friends again was not going to solve this issue. The animosity he had for her was heavily emotional, something she sucked at. She sighed sorrowfully.

"… Are you coming or not?"

Ron turned to Harry. He looked like he was waiting for her, albeit impatiently. His body had disappeared thanks to the cloak. His visible arm was stretched to his side, offering her some room to join him.

She knew he would have gladly left her behind if he could. Truthfully, she felt like she shouldn't bother to accept his offer and just let him run away. But… she might never see him again. She didn't want to end things with him on a terrible note. She was more determine to show him just how much she cared.

She nodded stiffly and joined him. It was awkward as they huddled together and made their way downstairs. She convinced herself that the obvious blush on her cheeks was from Harry's arm insistently bumping against her right breast. She was also glad that Harry hadn't noticed.

As they made their way downstairs, they witnessed Dumbledore battling four Death Eaters. The man was not known for being a powerful wizard for nothing. He very much seemed to be in his element as he took the four evil doers head-on.

Harry dragged Ron to the fireplace. He was hoping everyone would be too distracted by the battle to notice their escape.

"Where are we going, Harry?" Ron whispered softly.

Harry shivered as her breath brushed his ear. He had to remind himself that it was just Ron, no matter how silky-smooth or... _girly_ her voice sounded. Why did everything change about the redhead? Why did she turn out so soft-looking and... womanly? And why the fuck did she smell so nice? It meant nothing. "Somewhere not here."

He could tell that she was confused but thankfully didn't probe.

He took out some Floo powder from a pouch. He had never seen more than one person use the Floo at the same time. In fact, he had been repeatedly warned before that it was a bad idea. Originally, he had only factored his own escape when the time came. He didn't ever think that Ron would be included. But these were desperate times. He was going to go against the rules.

Harry threw the Floo powder into the fireplace. It immediately turned a bright shade of green. He cursed himself. He hadn't realised that it would be this obvious, given the fact that he hadn't used the Floo in years.

The battle paused. The participants all changed their attention to the green flames.

With their position compromised, Harry immediately jumped into the fireplace with Ron.

"Diagon Alley!" he shouted.

The flames engulfed them.

"They're trying to escape. After them!" Two Death Eaters apparated out of the area before Albus could do anything. As he tried to go after them, the other two Death Eaters resumed their handicapped duel with him.

Albus prayed that they would be alright.

* * *

Harry and Ron dashed down Diagon Alley. Harry knew he was being pursued by at least two Death Eaters. He could distinctly pick up their thunderous steps gaining.

He could 'apparate', but it was too risky. The move took a lot of magic from him, regardless of distance. Adding to the fact that he didn't know what would happen to Ron if he tried, then he was hard-pressed not to risk it. He also had no idea if he would fall into an ambush. There were very little places he knew, and he could easily be attacked in said places.

He reserved his magic to use when the time was right. Although he felt like he wasn't completely ready for actually battle yet, he had no choice.

Two other Death Eaters covered their front. They were trapped.

Harry was lucky he had the foresight to Glamour himself up before removing the invisibility cloak.

The two Death Eaters that had earlier chased them had stopped running and started stalking, like a lioness to a prey.

Ron was pretty scared. They were surrounded and she knew she wasn't a strong enough witch to take on four Death Eaters alone. She slowly, unconsciously, moved closer to Harry. If he noticed, he wasn't commenting.

One Death Eater in front of them stepped forward.

"Is she the girl that was with Dumbledore?" he asked his partners.

"Yes."

"And the man?"

"Probably associated with Dumbledore. We should take them both. Master would not like it if we left loose ends."

"Very well. You two, come quietly. Do not resist. That is the only warning you will receive."

"And where are we going?" Harry asked in a deep voice.

"You will be taken to Lord Voldemort since you have been sighted to being with Albus Dumbledore at the Leaky Cauldron."

Harry did not like the sound of that. It was too soon to be seeing Voldy again. He had a feeling that if Voldemort tried to kill him at the state he was now, there would be no second chances. He was starting to sweat.

"I will gratefully decline," Harry said.

"Do we need both of them? It was the girl who was reported after all," one reasoned.

"You're quite right Well, then, I'm going to accept your refusal, young sir," the Death Eater in front of him said.

He swiftly fired a curse at Harry.

Harry didn't know and would never want to know why he did it, but he shoved Ron away from the attack and raised his hands to shield the blow. A magical shield immediately erupted, absorbing the curse.

The Death Eaters were astounded, even Ron, who was huddled between some debris for safety, was shocked to the core.

Harry didn't use a wand.

"Did you see him holding a wand?" a Death Eater asked his partner.

"No… He must be dangerous."

"Kill him!"

They all fired a barrage of curses at him. He was doing a good job of blocking both sides of their attack. It didn't help that he was cornered and couldn't move less he be hit.

Ron fearfully stared on as Harry continued to block the curses that were shot at him from his left and right. This seemed fatal. He looked like he was becoming overwhelmed by the onslaught.

'Help him, you idiot!' her mind screamed.

She scrambled for her wand. She had never fought Death Eaters before and it scared the hell out of her that they were surrounded by them. But she had to do something. She couldn't let Harry die!

"Expelliarmus!" she yelled. She gave an internal cheer when she noticed that it disarmed one of the Death Eaters behind Harry.

The man cursed and turned to her. She could practically feel his glare through his mask.

"Fucking bitch!" he snarled. He turned to pick up his wand. Ron saw a golden opportunity.

"Stupify!"

The spell hit the Death Eater squarely on his back. He was knocked out cold.

The Death Eater's partner turned his attention to her.

"Diffindo!" he yelled. Ron ducked under debris as the Severing Charm cut rocks clean through just inches from her. She had barely dodged been sliced to pieces.

"Don't kill her, you fool!" one in Harry's front said, momentarily distracted.

Harry used that distraction to withdraw his wand and aim at one of them.

"Reducto!"

He made sure to hit the floor that was just below the Death Eater. It immediately exploded and the Death Eater was sent flying back.

His victory was short lived as the Death Eater behind him fired at him.

"Crucio!"

Harry immediately blocked it with one of his hands. He was losing magic rapidly thanks to the fact that he was using wandless magic.

'Shit! My Glamour isn't going to last!' He was starting to panic. He couldn't afford to let his identity be discovered, but he couldn't back down from the battle either. He should have taken the risk and just 'apparated' with Ron. Now, it was starting to look hopeless.

Ron was doing her best to distract a Death Eater by keeping his attention on her. It was proving to be costly. Her clothes were tattered severely and her forehead was cut. Blood kept dripping near her eyes and she had to wipe it off before it blinded her.

It was obvious that they were losing the fight. The alley looked nothing like it used to. As small as it was, it looked like an enormous battlefield.

Harry grit his teeth as he could feel the magical exertion taking a toll on him. His arms were hurting from casting dual spells over and over. It became apparent that he was lacking heavily in skill.

A Death Eater appeared on the roof of a building just above them all. Ron quickly noticed, but Harry was too distracted by the two Death Eaters in front who were focused on killing him.

"Expulso!" the new Death Eater above them shouted.

The spell was definitely aimed at Harry, but he hadn't realised it.

Ron knew that the spell could be fatal. She didn't want Harry to die now. She couldn't afford to lose him.

She dashed to Harry and shoved him away in the same manner he did earlier. The Death Eaters had stopped firing the moment they realised what had happened, but Ron still suffered some bruises from the passing curses. The curse aimed at Harry missed him and hit the ground. Unfortunately, Ron was too close.

The ground imploded right next to her. She was pelted with thick bricks and stone. She flew back from the force of the blue explosion and hit a brick clad building so hard that her right shoulder dislocated as she fell to the ground in a heap. The cut to her forehead bled more profusely.

Harry was surprised by what happened, but he didn't have the time to dwell on it as the Death Eaters resumed their attack on him.

Ron was barely conscious now. She couldn't move her body because it was too painful. Her fuzzy vision could distinctly pick out Harry, shields out, trying to fight off the enemy. She had no idea that things would go this horribly wrong. For two years, she had hoped that one day, she would see him again. She struggled to accept her femininity and would still struggle. She had been a guy most of her life… How could she even begin to accept the loss of her manhood? Although… if Harry didn't want her to change back… She was prepared to put up with the punishment. She didn't hate him for making her like this. She did hate what she was, but she didn't hate _him_.

Her main purpose for finding him was his _forgiveness_.

Now, though, she didn't know if she would live long enough to make amends.

'Is this how it's going to be? I fuck everything up and I don't even get a chance to fix it? How unfair is that? I waited two bloody years to see Harry again and that's it? That's All? Show up and die?'

She saw Harry getting hit with a curse that nicked his arm. Even so, he was still valiantly fighting back.

'Please… I just need one more chance… to show him what he means to me… One more chance… to get him back… One more…'

Her eyes closed. Everything went dark.

* * *

…

… Mhm…

… Mhmhm… Mhmhn…

Ron continuously heard the mumbling. She was barely coming to and the noises were just irritating. The moment she got in tune with her senses, she noticed that she was extremely exhausted. She felt every other pain in her body. She vaguely remembered that she took an explosive curse at point-blank range. Her earlier dislocated shoulder, now put back into place, still hurt like a bitch, but not as unbearably painful as before. Her torso felt like it was covered in bandages – a little too tightly on her ample chest. All in all, she felt like absolute shit.

Mmhmhmmhm! Mhmhmhm!

Her groggy mind was starting to work appropriately. The mumbling sounds were slowly becoming sharper, purer. It distinctly sounded like people talking, yet muddled and confusing. She scrunched her face to focus more on the sounds, her mind slowly processing everything.

"They still don't know where he is? This is ridiculous. Why didn't they keep track of him when he was actually sighted?"

"It's not that simple, Harry. Voldemort isn't just popping up in one place and causing mayhem. He's using strategy and confusing the hell out of anyone trying to track him down. That, and he seems to be getting more Death Eaters into the ranks each day."

"He's still recruiting?"

"Yeah. It's definitely worse than I imagined. He was never this… broad in the first war."

"So… is there any indication where he is now?"

"He's most likely still in Spain. But with the news of you being alive. He'll definitely be back soon."

"Damn… I shouldn't have let them through the door."

"What?"

"Nothing. I need to plan."

"Not this again, Harry-"

"Yes, this again. That bastard made me suffer."

"So, you think going after him now is a good idea?"

"… I may not have a choice in the matter."

"I said it before. No one's coming after you yet, okay? Dumbledore knows you're here. We couldn't avoid that."

"Yes, we could have. You didn't have to tell him."

"It was better telling him than having him tag along. There was no way I was going to risk that. And what about the kid over there? Do you think Dumbledore or the Weasleys would have allowed us to take… her? I _can_ say her, right? Whatever. Do you think they would have allowed for this otherwise?"

"Fuck."

"… I should really question who you've been hanging around."

"This _isn't_ the time to joke."

"Relax, okay? I made sure that this place was hard to track. If Death Eaters had a hard time, then I doubt Voldemort would find it easy."

"Maybe you're right. I've been edgy ever since yesterday. I'm just used to expecting the worst to happen to me. Sorry."

"It's alright. I know and I don't blame you. It's not easy being the centre of attention… especially that way."

Ron opened her eyes, fighting the blurry vision to pinpoint the people who were near her. One she already knew was Harry, but the other one…

Ron peered in front of her. She was in a small building that looked like it was surrounded by nature. The place wasn't all that neat, and there were clothes thrown on the floor near her… Her eyes suddenly widened.

"S… Sirius?" she said hoarsely, still feeling pain and exhaustion mixed together.

A bandaged Harry and the aforementioned man, both seated at a table, turned to her. It was definitely Sirius. The same rugged hair and beard. Ron struggled to comprehend whether it was a dream or not. But his next words put that thought to bed.

"Well, would you look at that. She's finally awake. Was a bit worried that I didn't tend to those wounds properly. Moony always said I was terrible at that stuff."

* * *

 _Wow, this chapter was… Wow. You have no idea how many times I looked at it (while it was in WIP-mode) and thought to myself, "How the hell do I make any of this work?" A freaking migraine, this chapter was. That's all I can say._

 _Well, I'm done for now. Please review again! Any questions, ask away!_

 _If any of you are thinking: "Oh no! Now that Ron saved Harry from danger, he will magically forgive the prat for everything! Arg!" I'll just let you know now that it's not that simple. People, in general, aren't that simple. It would be pretty... immature for forgiveness to happen at this point considering everything going on. Forgiveness is still up in the air._

 _I think I'll take a little break since I brought this chapter in much earlier than I had intended. But don't you worry, I'll update soon. Like I've mentioned before (but I don't think I did here) I will be very active these next few months on this site. I want to expand my knowledge and tackle new things when it comes to writing. So, I'll be reading a lot. If you ever want me to review any of your works, just drop me a PM!_

 _Until next time, ciao!_


	4. Complications: Part 1

A/N: Author's notes will be brief from now on. Thanks for your reviews.

* * *

 **Chapter 4: Complications: Part 1.**

When Ron woke up, she could immediately feel the aches on every part of her body. It was difficult for her not to groan in discomfort. Her left arm especially felt stiff and firm. She peered and looked at it. Ah, of course it would be heavily bandaged. Touching her forehead confirmed another part wrapped in bandages. She then realised that she lay on a bed, in a bedroom that was unfamiliar to her one at the Burrow.

The place was dark; murky brown walls surrounded her, littered with torn splotches that seemed aged. The dresser just next to her seemed like something out of a hastily woven auction — the peach trims around the yellow woodwork heavily contrasted with the otherwise dreary setting of the room.

She slowly stood up, wobbly thanks to the springy bed beneath her, and noticed that her attire had been replaced by brown pyjamas fit specifically for her. She stared at them bitterly. Her mum had brought them after the first chaotic year of her change. In fact, all her 'normal' clothes had become too large for her new, lithe form — adding to the fact that she had a softer, plumper bum and swelling breasts, then it's no surprise why she wasn't a happy camper.

It had been terrible in the beginning. Just hours after losing Harry in their search for him, she had woken up the next morning completely altered. She had panicked, cried, cursed and raged. Her emotions, so fresh, so…different… It was a wonder why she hadn't lost her sanity, then.

Adjusting to the changes of her body was even more difficult. For one, she didn't want to accept it — no one did, to be honest. She had been Ron Weasley, a boy, just the day prior. Why would anyone not go bonkers from this? No one knew if she was under a curse or not. Not only was her physical statue troublesome, her mind felt, well, too put it lightly, very separate from who she used to be. People were worried that she was no longer Ron Weasley, but someone completely…unknown. Dumbledore took it upon himself to study her and see if he could undo what had happened. Her mum wasn't having _any_ of that. She didn't want Ron, as a female, to be checked up on by any _man_ , even if it was just Albus. Madam Pomfrey was assigned to be the one to check on her. It was the most mortifying process Ron could remember. And the results from it all…

* * *

 _Ron lay on a bed in the hospital wing at Hogwarts as Arthur and Molly conversed with Madam Pomfrey just a few feet away from her. They weren't far enough that she couldn't hear what they were saying. And the more they talked, the more she didn't want to know._

" _It appears that…Ron has completely changed into a female."_

 _Molly's brows were furrowed. "What do you mean completely? That doesn't make sense. No one can just change into another gender completely! Isn't it some spell? A curse? Maybe a Polyjuice brew gone wrong?"_

 _Poppy shook her head. "Normally, Polyjuice is the closest anyone can come to becoming adequately changed. But even the slightest miscalculation of a Polyjuice formula would have fatal results. This isn't Polyjuice. There's none in Ron's system. So far, from what I can tell, Ron's change is purely 'natural'…which shouldn't be possible."_

" _But, but how?!"_

" _I don't know how. But that's what happened. I may be proficient in diagnostics and the sort, but this is far beyond anything I've seen before. I have suspicion that her…reproductive organs have accommodated the change as well."_

 _Arthur looked completely shocked and pale. "So…Ron has…uh."_

" _Yes," Pomfrey said, a bit impatient with the man's stuttering, "Ron has 'that'. It seems to be functioning normally. Well, as normal as I can recount. Look, I don't want to discuss the details where your child can hear them all. If you want to talk more, let's go outside."_

 _Molly had lost the breath that she was holding in and leaned into Arthur, looking very troubled. The man held his wife, mirroring her visage._

 _Pomfrey led them out of the hospital wing, leaving Ron alone and in silence._

 _Ron stared at the ceiling, trying to drown the ever need to think by counting the many tiles that greeted her vision. She was still reeling from the check Pomfrey had just given her. She felt vindicated, violated, like a small part of her sanity had been shot. And when Poppy checked between her legs…_

 _She shivered, trying very hard to forget how different it felt from being a guy. It was…awkward and uncomfortable. So, she chose not to entertain the thought any further than need be._

 _She knew very well what her parents were discussing with Pomfrey; it was damn obvious. But still, did they have to make it even more humiliating?_

 _She briefly looked at herself and noted how noticeable her chest area had become. It almost obscured the view of her exposed midriff, which also looked different now; it looked so…curvaceous. Her hips pretty much flared out on either side of her and forced her to realise that her trousers were too big and ill-structured for her new, petite frame. She touched her stomach, feeling how incredibly smooth it was compared to the one before. Additionally, she noted that every part of her skin felt soft._

 _She noticed another thing: she was highly sensitive in some places of her body. The constant shifts of her breath and anxious movements highlighted particular places that were more noticeable than ever thanks to her shift in gender. She didn't bother continue with that train of thought when it came to her boobs._

 _She sighed and looked at the ceiling again. "Looks like it hasn't really sunk in yet, huh?"_

 _She was sure that was the reason she didn't feel anything at the moment. She was numb, like it wasn't something really happening. She hoped that it wasn't anything to worry about too soon. People would surely help her get back to normal._

 _She thought about the possible reasons this happened to her. Now that she had the time to ponder, it became obvious that what happened to her had something to do with what transpired between her and Harry yesterday. She wasn't stupid…most of the time. She knew well enough that Harry had cast some kind of spell when she had him pinned on the ground. The spell itself made her feel funny. It made her feel alien from her own body - having a sense of detachment she could never hope to discern._

 _To think she wanted to apologise to someone that did this to her? Would it be in her right to demand he change her back when she found him again? Would it be right to put the blame on him? That would be stupid and childish. He was afraid and part of her knew that he didn't do this to her on purpose. Lashing out when cornered would be the normal thing to do with his state of mind. Which reminded her — he didn't look so good, did he? Yeah, he looked very pale and…thin. Damn, stop thinking about him!_

 _But she couldn't._

 _Maybe this was just punishment for what she did to him? She wouldn't chalk off the very notion. Perhaps the universe felt like Harry deserved payback for her betrayal. Honestly speaking, she wouldn't blame the universe._

 _She didn't focus on anything anymore. She continued to stare at the ceiling blankly._

* * *

After that day, she had to suffer for a number of months through interrogations and growing mood swings. No one took her change in stride. It was like a jarring one-eighty filled with questioning stares and distanced Order and family members. Hermione was the only exception. They were able to reconcile after what had happened when they were with Harry. So, she took it upon herself to be there for Ron and help her understand things about her body. The differences between male and female were quite shocking to the both of them, to say the least.

Being a girl, she realised that there were always whirlwinds of feelings. They were new subjects discussed, from dressing appropriately, to the way one walked, talked and even sat down. Ron had been floored by how different girls conducted themselves. There was always a way to do this and do that which completely contradicted what she was used to as a boy. Worse yet, when one day she felt pain like no other before and saw blood leaking from between her legs… Suffice to say, Ron had a newfound respect for woman in general. They went through hell, but knew how to cover it well.

"You should lay down, Ron. Poppy said that it would take a few more hours for all your wounds to heal — some were too deep for her to deal with quickly," Sirius said. He stood by the crusted doorway to the room, eyeing her closely.

It was then that Ron realised she was upright on the bed. She looked at her bandaged midsection. She could feel a dull ache in the area. Her shoulder, however, seemed well taken care of. Weirdly, she half-expected Sirius not to talk to her after the last time they spoke to each other. _Can I even classify sneering at the man as talking? Well…_

"Madam Pomfrey healed me?" Ron asked as she lay back down, never taking her eyes off Sirius. It was like a dream. For two years, everyone had believed he was dead. And now here he was, standing right before her eyes.

Sirius shrugged and said: "I helped a bit, I guess - mainly because I was the first on the scene."

Ron furrowed her brows. She wasn't sure what he was referring to.

Sirius could read it on her face. "When you and Harry fought Death Eaters? I was there, a bit late, I admit. You were in pretty bad shape."

Ron realised that she was still exhausted. She closed her eyes, quickly drifting to sleep.

Sirius nodded his appreciation. He closed the room's door and went to the living room, where Harry sat on a table, hastily eating food.

The young Potter was wearing a black long-sleeve with matching shoes and boots. His hair was its usual, messy self. He pretty much looked prepared for swift action, like he thought a battle was imminent.

"She should be okay."

"Why are you telling me?"

"You don't care?"

"Should I?"

"Guess not." Sirius joined him on the table. "Whether you hate anyone isn't up to me. She turned her back on you."

Sirius had opted to go with what Dumbledore said, referring to Ron as 'she'. Seemed like he was using the sanity excuse, too. _Already too confused about it. There's no way — just no way am I going to add shit to that._

"That's right… Would you rather I accept any sort of stupid apology Ron gives me? That sorry is enough for turning…her back against me?" God, it was _so_ unbelievably awkward. His eye twitched at the very idea of adjusting his stance towards the redheaded moron — actually catering to the ridiculous consensus of thinking of Ron as a woman. It was pure idiocy, really. _Why_ should he give two peas about it; perhaps not to hurt Ron's feelings…to — to make the git comfortable? If that was the case, he seldom thought about taking it seriously.

"Still weird, huh?"

"Can't say it isn't. I would have probably kept saying 'him' if Pomfrey wasn't so thorough in her explanation to the contrary. Besides, I don't care what Ron goes by. She's still a fucking arsehole."

"None of my business. That's between the two of you."

"Whose side are you on?"

"Yours, which is why I'm not going to fill you with ideas that hate is great and everyone must suffer till they die."

Harry fingers tightened into fists. His brows were nearly on his hairline. Of all the things he expected from his godfather, the last thing was a mature demeanour. "I'm not going to forgive them."

"Good."

Harry paused, confused. "Then why-"

"I'm not going to explain myself either. This is your battle. I'll be here for you. I won't let anyone hurt you ever again. But I'm not going to be making the decisions for you concerning them. You wanna curse them? Be my guest. You want to forget you ever knew them? I'll support you fully. But under no circumstances am I going to tell you to do any of these things."

"I should be asking why, shouldn't I?"

"You don't have to, but I'll clarify a bit. I know what you're feeling. I've also been to Azkaban on false charges, remember? A lot of people turned their backs on me, too, Dumbledore and Remus included. I was pretty much filled with so much hate the more I stayed in prison. No one believed I was innocent. People were more than willing to wash their hands of my name."

This, Harry had no idea about in its entirety. He hadn't actually thought too much about what Sirius had gone through. In fact, it seemed that Sirius had been doing a good job in putting his focus away from the subject. He acted like he was okay, joked around occasionally. It saddened Harry to fully realise that Sirius had been betrayed by the ones he trusted, too. They really did relate to each other.

"Then why stick with them? They thought you were guilty! How could you even stand the mere sight of them?!"

Sirius scratched his cheek and offered a weak chuckle. "No need to be so upset for me, Harry."

"Upset for you? I'm upset _at_ you! These people stabbed you in the back and you welcome them with open arms?"

"It does sound stupid, doesn't it?"

Harry glared at him, forcing the dog Animagus to sigh. "I did it for you, Harry."

"… What?"

"Well, a large part of it _was_ revenge against Pettigrew. But that wasn't my main purpose. I needed you safe. I knew for a fact that Peter could kill you or influence you. When I realised that Peter was close to you using one of your friends, I just knew I had to get to you before it was too late. I had to kill him, for me, for you…for James and Lily."

"That still doesn't explain why you would forgive the others after what they did."

"Don't you get it, Harry? Circumstances, that's the reason. There was just too many things going on that I had to. Dumbledore had you under his thumb. I just couldn't waltz in, fugitive and all, and take you."

Harry nodded his head slowly, processing everything. "And Remus?"

Sirius gave him a sad smile. "It's complicated."

"Then un-complicate it," Harry retorted.

Sirius gave Harry a bemused smile. "It won't change your situation, will it?"

"Probably not, but at the very least, I can learn from it," Harry answered truthfully.

"… Another time. You're not ready to hear it."

Harry staggered on his chair. He directed a scowl at his godfather. "Who are you to decide when I'm ready or not?!"

Sirius ignored Harry's glare. "I'm your godfather, Harry. Like it or not, I have your best interest at heart. I'll tell you another time."

Harry shook his head. "I'm sick and tired of secrets being kept from me. Dumbledore did it and now you?"

Sirius flinched, not liking the very idea for being compared to Dumbledore. "… Fair point. Alright…but give me some time. I need a bit of courage myself."

Harry realised that it was an important subject, one that affected Sirius deeply as well. "I'll hold you to it, then."

"Thanks, Harry."

"Moving on. Where did you go this morning?" His eyes were unblinking. Deep down, he already knew the answer. That was irrelevant, however; he wanted to hear the words from the source itself — merely to build concrete reasoning why his trust, or lack of thereof, was warranted.

Sirius dawned a lopsided grin. He noticed Harry's visible apprehension, but said nothing about it. "You're more interrogative than I remember."

"I need to know all the facts so I'm aware where I stand."

 _Haven't seen him for years and I feel like a barely know him anymore._ Truthfully, Sirius understood why Harry was so anxious. It came with the prison trade. Anyone who has gone to Azkaban understood that if, somehow, they did make it out, a part of them would forever be lost to the horrors subjugated upon them by Dementors."What? Where you stand?"

"You know exactly what I mean!"

Sirius put his hands up. "Easy, easy, no need for that."

Harry sighed and relaxed his body, waiting for Sirius to explain himself.

"I had to get some more supplies. We were running out of food..."

The truth, but not the whole truth. Harry's sceptical eye-quirk told Sirius that the boy wanted full disclosure.

"…and seeing Order members— just here me out before you get mad!" he hastily added when noticing Harry's eyes turning into slits. "They needed to know how Ron was doing, including you — you know this. I also needed more information on how bad things were in the wizarding community. The more we know about what Voldemort's up to, the better."

Harry's eyes lingered on his godfather's face, trying to study him for anything else that needed extraction. He soon calmed down when he realised that he wasn't that good at reading people.

"And what did you find out?" Harry asked.

"Well, from the information Snape provided, seems like you're in the clear about Voldemort knowing you're alive."

Harry cupped his chin thoughtfully. "Guess those Death Eaters didn't get a thorough look at me when my Glamour failed."

"Plus, I must have been a good distraction when I came to your rescue."

Harry snorted when he noticed Sirius sporting a cheeky grin. He didn't notice the fleeting moment of worry that crossed the rugged man's face.

Sirius' grin softened to a warm smile. He placed a hand on Harry's left shoulder. "I'm really glad that you're safe, Harry."

Harry threw a somewhat furtive, guilty look at his godfather. "You've said that for the last two days."

"And I'll be saying it for a few more. You have no idea how worried I was when I couldn't find you."

Harry shrugged complacently. He felt apologetic for causing Sirius trouble, but it was actually necessary, no matter how little he knew of Sirius' innocence, then. "Well, you don't have to worry anymore, right?"

Sirius bemusedly picked up on Harry's weak attempt at an apology. Poor lad. "That's right."

He ruffled Harry's hair for good measure and enjoyed the annoyed look he received for his efforts. Harry maybe different from what he remembered, but he was certainly…noteworthy.

"I'll make us something to eat," he announced.

"I already ate," Harry deadpanned.

Sirius paused and eyed the plate on the table. "Hmm… How about seconds, then?"

* * *

The next time Ron woke up, her throat was very irritated. It felt like she hadn't drunk anything in years. She coughed a few times, never noticing she had company.

"You're awake again. Good. I need you to take this."

She felt a vial slip into her fingers. Immediately realising it was a potion, she downed it in one go.

"Take it easy. You don't want to choke on that stuff."

She felt utterly exhausted to offer Sirius any reply or notice.

"Okay, now take this one. It should give you your bounce back. You were out for a couple of days; this will make up for the time you hadn't eaten."

She took whatever it was, and felt her senses sharpen; her body ceased its sluggishness and she sat on the bed. She turned her attention to Sirius, seated on a little stool next to her bed.

"Feeling better?" he asked.

She nodded her head, not trusting her voice yet.

Sirius stood up and put two more potions on her nightstand. "You need to take each before you go to bed. Your clothes are in the cupboard in front of you — bathroom is to your left when you exit the room. I'll give you some privacy. If you need any help, I'll be in the kitchen."

The man was overtly curt, Ron noticed; it was like he rehearsed the whole interaction line-by-line, without the need for her input whatsoever. He was gone before she could even voice as to where she was.

After five minutes of musing about whether or not to venture into the unknown, Ron got out of bed and went to the cupboard. After taking out the clothes that she needed, she made her way to the bathroom. She glanced at the living room, swiftly noticing that Harry was there. She suddenly felt her chest tighten and her weight nervously shift from one foot to another.

He hadn't noticed her. His back was turned and he was talking to Sirius, who was in the kitchen — filled with all sorts of shiny silverware and an assortment of food — that wasn't covered by any wall or window, but separated from the lounge by a dusky, brown counter.

She stood there for a while, anxiously eyeing Harry, wondering if maybe she should at least greet him. _And have him tell you to fuck off? Really? No, I don't need that right now._

She resumed her journey to the bathroom, unconsciously tip-toeing inside — the desperation to be invisible was not lost on her.

When she closed the door with a soft thud, she noticed that it couldn't be locked. Shrugging in defeat, she quickly went to the sink and was surprised to see brand new toothbrushes along with toothpastes — which were…labelled with names. She didn't like the fact that her toothbrush was green.

When she looked at the mirror, she noticed that the bandage on her head was gone. She realised that there was no pain anymore, anywhere. She lifted her pyjama shirt and exposed her midriff to the cool air. No bandages — great. She hoped Sirius didn't need to give her a more thorough examination.

She froze suddenly, looking visibly apprehension. _Right… I'll need to take a shower. No problem — no problem at all. Seen it all before…but Harry hasn't, and eventually might… Okay, what the fuck am I_ _ **thinking**_ _? No, those dreams do_ _ **not**_ _mean anything. It might be a side-effect of being a girl. Yeah, yeah…has to be it. Note to self, stop being so damn paranoid!_

It didn't stop her from slowly disrobing to her underwear. Once she did, she paused again.

She really looked at herself. Even after all these years, it was still surreal staring at her body. Her blue spotted bra and panties only seemed to add to the innocent sensuality she saw whenever she looked at herself. She _was_ pretty fit, Hermione had told her as much — although not in the same words. She stared at her breasts. If it was someone else, and if she were male, large breasts would be hard to stray her vision away from — to discretely leer at; now, however, it was very easy to look away and it really pissed her off that she was a subject of more than a few males' fantasies just because of her ample bust size. Her left hand came to rest on her flat stomach; just another part of her that was hard to understand. She could actually get pregnant. She still couldn't deal with that, though — not entirely yet. It meant she was completely stripped of anything that made her male; that she was truly, fully female to the cellular level. She turned to her side. She wasn't fat by any means but her hips and — God, her bum… It was big and…pillowy, a testament of her 'child bearing assets', a fleeting passerby (who hit on her) had said. _Fuck, I think I'm going to cry again._ She couldn't look at herself anymore. It was becoming unbearable.

Unexpectedly, the bathroom door opened. Ron whipped her head in the direction of the noise, her eyes wide and her stance as stiff as a provoked cat.

Harry was making his way inside. His face was fixed to the floor. He seemed quite distraction; in a sort of thoughtless sense of self-deliberation. But as soon as his eyes landed on creamy, small feet, he halted his strut so fast that he nearly stumbled. His eyes shot to hers, and Ron easily noticed the brief uncertainty that plagued him. They eyed each other for a time, feeling like nothing else existed.

Ron, in her initial surprise, had turned her whole front to Harry, giving the aforementioned wizard an enticing view of her body.

Harry hadn't expected this situation to transpire; he was completely caught off guard — so caught off guard that his eyes began to wonder way before his mind processed it. He drank in her form with an instinctual hesitancy that had his chest warming up considerably. The image of Ron's male persona was shattered by delicate curves and a voluptuous figure. Every part of Ron — every, single part — was like a marvel of femininity he had yet to lay his eyes on. He had never seen a girl in so much detail, so much…proof. It was as if Merlin was cackling at him, reminding him just how much of what he did effected Ron. She basically looked nothing like he remembered at all. It couldn't have been more than ten seconds of ogling, of wondering how far this transformation had gone; if Ron could, in fact, be actually classified as a woman, when his mind finally snapped him out of his stupor.

He thought he had ridden himself of any emotion aside from apathy — cold, calculating apathy — but he could feel his face heat him in upsetting embarrassment, like he was a pervert that couldn't wait to take a peek at Ron's body… _Ron's_ body.

His eyes landed on hers again. He could see that his embarrassment was mirrored by her eyes, although she seemed to be more shocked than mortified.

Ron's heart was beating a mile a minute. She had never felt so…exposed before. The way Harry had looked at her… Anyone else would have had the imprint of her fist on their face, but Harry… His eyes — they just…raked every part of her, like she was something never before seen, something to memorise. She wasn't quite self-conscious of the way he looked at her. No, she was borderline discomfited at the emotions his gaze exuded out of her. She didn't want to think about the feeling — she honestly didn't; she didn't want to place it, or categorise it in any field of self-awareness. She didn't want to think of the irrationality of her body…how much it was drawn to those green eyes; how much his gaze made her feel so conflicted — so swamped to the bone with girlish question upon question — about appearances…about his attention. She honestly didn't want any of it, but she couldn't help herself.

He looked away quickly, too quickly. He realised and was partially ashamed that he had a front row seat to see most of Ron's delicates. He expected the disgust to accompany the discovery of Ron's female anatomy, but it never came to pass. He didn't offer an apology for what transpired, didn't think Ron deserved any of the sort. He just stiffly closed the door on his way out.

Ron could feel her whits coming back together. It was then she noticed that she had been breathing rather quickly — taking very shallow, shaky breaths. It was a wonder she didn't hear it with her heart thundering in her chest. She remembered when Neville accidentally discovered her in the same manner a year ago. Nothing could highlight woman fury more than vindicated rage. That's not what she was feeling now, and it scared the shit out of her.

She robotically turned to the mirror. Her face looked completely flushed. _Come on, just from a look? What nonsense is that? He looked a_ _ **little**_ _— that's all! It was an accident! Geez!_

She smacked her face a few times, frowning at how stupid the whole ordeal was. There were more precious issues to deal with.

* * *

Molly sat in the kitchen of the Burrow. She stared distractedly at a family picture she held in her hands. How things got this bad would always escape her. Well, not really; the bitter reminder of how everything came to be was staring right back at her. The poor, poor lad. What a great injustice done upon him. Unfortunately, it was difficult to hold on to just that notion. When it came to Harry, it was always complicated…always.

Her poor Ron had to be a casualty in it as well. To this day, she didn't know whether to cast blame on Harry for that or not. It would have made her feel ten times better if she had them both under the same roof, with her, under her watchful eye, but Dumbledore and even the recently alive Sirius were resolute in keeping Harry — and by consequence, Ron — as far away from them as possible, unless absolutely necessary. Part of her felt it was incredibly unfair not to be given a chance to make amends with Harry, while another understood the severity of the situation.

Voldemort was beginning to cause more havoc than he ever had before. It boggled everyone how calculating and insidious the madman was.

She could only hope that Harry never fell prey to that man's schemes again. Alas, she could do very little in providing aid. But if, by some off chance, Harry needed anything from her, she'd face Salazar himself if she had to. She would literally do anything.

* * *

George Weasley entered a local pub filled with boisterous, and somewhat drunk people. He sighed and immediately went to the counter.

"George, nice to see ya, mate," the bartender greeted. He soon turned serious and pointed to his right. "She's right over there, passed out again."

George followed the man's instructions and eventually found his target. She was using her arms as a pillow as she slept.

Rolling his eyes, he tapped her repeatedly. "Tonks…you've got to stop doing this to yourself."

* * *

Sirius eyed Harry worriedly from the kitchen. He had been sitting on the dining table and not saying anything. He…kinda looked depressed, but Sirius had the distinct feeling that Harry didn't want to talk about it. What had happened? He didn't know, so he chose to wait for Harry to say something on the matter. He eyed the beef stew in front of him. It's these moments when he missed that infuriating House-elf. He wasn't a terrible cook, but even he could admit that Kreacher was better equipped to handle household cases such as this.

He looked up when he heard footsteps and saw Ron making her way to them.

She was dressed in baby blue shorts, complimented by a ruby vest that did little to hide how developed her body was. It seemed she didn't expect to be going anywhere, anytime soon.

Sirius raised an eyebrow at her choice of clothes. _Maybe she's not aware that wearing that might give a bloke ideas._ A brief look at Harry, and the silly notion was squashed. _Nope, it won't affect him — too much negativity in his system._

He noted how she seemed like she was walking on glass. Of course, Harry hadn't noticed her yet, but it seemed she was hoping it would stay that way forever. A crooked grin spread on his face.

"Ah! Good afternoon! You're just on time, Ron. I just finished my beef stew. You're going to love it. Come, have a seat — plenty of room."

Harry hadn't so much as flinched at Sirius' announcements. But Ron staggered in surprise.

Ron turned her attention to Harry. It looked like was ignoring her. That was a good and a bad thing. _Fuck this, why should I feel afraid of him? I fucked up our friendship but it isn't like I'm not trying to own up to it. No, being scared isn't going to fix anything!_

With renewed confidence, she walked to the table and sat opposite Harry. You could easily cut the tension with a knife.

Sirius frowned; he was disappointed that his goading had the opposite effect. He had been hoping to have Ron as a sputtering mess, but it seemed like the redhead found renewed resolve. Well, so much for that fun.

Harry did his best to look at a picture to his side. Ron didn't share the sentiment, and stared right at him. There were warning signs that her staring was upsetting him, but she didn't let up.

When things almost turned severe, Sirius swooped in with a large bowl filled with beef stew. He accompanied the food with three plates of rice.

"Let's all enjoy, shall we?" he said, loud enough to get both their attention. "I hope I didn't mess up somewhere." He even made a chuckle that seemed out of place and forced.

Harry should have been more worried about Sirius' cheerful demeanour, especially considering the fact that these were not fun times. He still refused to look at Ron, convincing himself that it had nothing to do with what happened earlier.

Sirius' mouth thinned when he noticed his attempt to lighten the mood — however half-arsed it was — didn't work. Since Harry seemed like he didn't and wouldn't bring anything to the conversation, he turned to Ron. He was full aware that putting them together and expecting them to interact was not a good idea. Problem was that they needed to put their differences aside and _work_ together. He was going to do his part to protect Harry, but things would be needlessly difficult if neither Harry or Ron put aside their disparities — well, until Ron's condition was solved and Voldemort was out of the question. Besides, what if something happened to him? It would make the situation for Harry immensely worse if he and Ron continued to be at odds with each other.

He grabbed his fork and took a mouthful of rice mixed with meat, continuing to shift his gaze between the oblivious pair. This wasn't about forgiveness. Sirius felt that Ron didn't deserve much of that…yet — maybe. The redhead still had a lot of grovelling to do… Maybe that still wasn't enough, though. Sirius couldn't put Harry and Ron's friendship in the same category as him and Remus. Despite everything, Remus was a much better friend to him than Ron was to Harry. Still, they needed to be a comprise between them. That was the only way they could survive. Heaven forbid if Voldemort was able to nab Ron and use that 'bond' to find and kill Harry…again.

Ron had been distractedly eating the food in front of her. She just couldn't stop stealing glances at Harry. She wanted to talk to him so, _so_ badly — not about the incident but about their relationship. Things as they were made the atmosphere around them suffocating. But Harry seemed like he didn't want to talk to her in any sense.

"So…" Sirius trailed off, gaining Ron's attention. "You seem to be better."

"… Yeah," Ron answered after a beat. Why did Sirius feel like pointing out the obvious?

As soon as Harry was done, which was fairly quick thanks to his eating, he shot up to his feet. He directed his stare at Sirius.

"Can I take a walk outside? I need some fresh air."

Sirius knit his brows. "Well…sure, but make sure you're close by and in the wards — you never know what might be out here."

He was already leaving by the time Sirius started talking.

Ron stood up as well. Her face had a frown on it. "Wait, Harry. We need to talk."

"No, we don't," he answered easily.

Now that was pissing her off. "Yes, we do — you _know_ we do. Are you just going to keep ignoring me while we live under the same roof?"

"Sure." He was already by the door.

Ron shook her head disappointedly. "I thought you were better than this."

Sirius could tell immediately that Ron was baiting Harry. It seemed that she was so desperate to speak to him, that it didn't matter if the situation became worse.

Unfortunately for her, Harry saw through her goading and walked outside, closing the entrance on his way out.

She sneered bitterly at the door. Here they were, at the same place, and they couldn't even come to an understanding or a conversation that didn't end with a sting of anger. This wasn't all about her, she understood that. If he wanted her to grovel at his feet to make up for what she did, then she would gladly…not. Forgiveness shouldn't work that way, not in her opinion. There so much she was willing to do to show how sorry she was, but reducing herself to a pathetic heap was not on the list; she just had too much self-respect…which wasn't helping her at all. _If he asked me to kiss his feet…I'm not so sure I'll totally deny him. I won't make it easy on him, though. He has no idea what a hell of a life_ _ **I've**_ _had._ Of course, he wouldn't, but that wasn't important. The issue was how desperate she was for his forgiveness. The immediate answer: suicidally desperate.

It was easy to rebuke any theorised scenario of humiliation to keep her dignity, but she was aware, and afraid, of how credible her mental bravado was. If he were to say 'jump', she was certain, in theory, that she would take offence to it. But it was different from actually being in the situation — different from being caught in the moment of the sudden command and asking 'how high?'. For fuck sakes, she just wanted her friend back, on a mutual level of communication, but sometimes people didn't get what they wanted.

"If you want to talk so much, mind sitting down and chatting with me? I have a lot of questions."

It was then she noticed Sirius. She had forgotten his existence briefly. After processing his words, she became anxious. They were not on good terms. The last words she said to him was her desire to kill his godson. No godfather would tolerate someone that callous. She was still surprised that he hadn't shown much agitation at her presence. If she was in his shoes, she would have done everything to make sure that Harry never associated with someone so despicable. Damn, self-loathing really suited her, didn't it?

He waited patiently as he saw her process his request. She wasn't the impulsive boy that he saw a couple of years ago. Which was kind of good? At least she would try not to put her foot in her mouth.

Ron sat back stiffly by the table, alert and ready for anything to go wrong. Sirius' gaze only added to her uncertainty.

"Firstly, look, I know you and Harry are not okay right now, but you need to give him space. The fact that he has to live with you from now on gives him the feeling of being cornered. You want him to tolerate you more? Then let him adjust at his own pace."

Clearly non-volatile _advice_ was the last thing she was expecting from him. He was all humourless. She felt it would be best to keep what he said in high regard.

"I get it, Sirius… It's just…when will that be, exactly?" Since he was being so forthright, she felt she needed to be, too.

"That's for him to decide," Sirius answered.

"Right, stupid question deserves a stupid answer," she chuckled sombrely.

"You did ask," Sirius said, smiling a little.

Ron took another look at the vicinity. "Where are we?"

"An initially abandoned cabin — deep into Scotland territory. The woods here provide perfect cover for any would-be passerby."

Okay, that was at least good to know. So, they were still in the British Isles.

"It took me a while to set it up. When I was on the run from Death Eaters, it was almost impossible to find any place to hide.

That actually made her realise something. "I'm sorry you had to go through that. It's nice to know that you are safe…and Remus?"

A part of her had suspicion what the answer would be when she brought up the question. It didn't really surprise her to see Sirius take a depressive turn.

"He didn't make it." The dog Animagus finally looked away.

Ron pursed her lips. It was too good to be true, then. She didn't pry as to the details — the death of a close friend was never an easy subject. She offered him a sympathetic hand, feeling as terrible as he was.

"I'm really sorry, Sirius." She meant every word. She knew what it was like to lose someone close to her. She understood the feeling of loss.

Sirius eyed the hand on his palm in complete surprise. _Heh…Well, what do you know?_ He looked at her then and saw how much sincerity there was to what she said. What do you know indeed.

"Thank you. Say," he really needed to change the subject, "I was wondering how you're feeling?"

Caught off guard, Ron retracted her hand and stared confusedly at him. "I feel fine — much better than a few days ago."

"That's good, but I wanted to know how you feel…you know?" He gestured to her body.

Ron shivered when she realised what he meant. "It's…different — very different."

She liked the fact that he was choosing not to hold her past against her, but now she was in uncomfortable territory. She hadn't discussed, in detail, what it was like to be like this with anyone else besides Hermione and her mum.

Sirius raised a brow at her answer. It was easy to see that the subject wasn't one of her favourites — but he was never the tip-toeing kind of person. "Uh… What should I refer to you as? Are you okay with—"

"I'm a girl," she answered bluntly, like she had heard the question a million times. "It's fine to call me that."

Sirius was temporarily left speechless by her go-ahead. "… It doesn't make you uncomfortable?"

Ron frowned at him. "Just because I identify myself as a woman doesn't mean I like the idea."

"So, you're okay with it because it makes it easier on yourself and other people," he surmised. He wasn't at all sure why he chose the topic of her sex, but was turning out quite informative.

Her frown deepened. "No, I identify as a woman because I _am_ a woman."

He did not expect that response. It thoroughly bewildered him. "I don't und—"

Ron leaned closer to him. Her frown had transformed into an ugly scowl. "I have my _time of the month_. I can naturally get _pregnant_. I think completely contrarily to my past male self. I'm pissed off at how most men treat women — how most men, who don't know me, treat _me_. My sexuality is utterly buggered. I don't know who I am anymore. Anything else?!"

 _Well, guess I should have taken a more sensitive approach_ , Sirius realised. He didn't understand women in general — not even his own late wife — they were like a puzzle that kept randomly shifting, unpredictable but irresistible. Ron fit the bill quite well and Sirius suddenly felt like he had pried too much for her _not_ to get offended.

"It's quite enough," he answered after a pause. The pregnant part stood out most for him. It shouldn't be possible for a male, turned female by any means, to naturally give birth, as far as he knew — so that pretty much confirmed as to what extent Ron's change covered.

Ron suddenly felt like she needed time to herself, time to think. She let her emotions get the best of her and it made her feel absolutely sick with herself. Couldn't she control herself better now? Was she no different than the day when she beat Harry up — where she didn't even think of the consequences? God, she just couldn't be like that anymore. She had promised herself to change for the better, but it was proving difficult.

She stood up, ready to leave in a huff when Sirius stopped her by grabbing her wrist.

"I'm sorry if I asked too much. I don't want to always be on eggshells concerning you. At least now I know enough about you to understand you better."

Ron calmed down significantly, feeling slightly sheepish. "The easier, the better."

Sirius nodded in agreement, letting her go — then suddenly turned stern. "I need you to hear this."

She stiffened at the intensity in his eyes, eyeing him worriedly.

"After we've figured out how to fix you," she didn't know if 'fixing' her now would really 'fix' her, "and if Harry still wants nothing to do with you then, I will support him fully."

He was perfectly frank. She knew he would hold true to his word. It saddened her, honestly.

"I…understand," she said with difficulty, her throat suddenly feeling dry. It was hard admitting that she agreed with him. It gave her less resolve of trying and getting Harry's forgiveness. It was an ultimatum, one she knew she didn't deserve. As bad as it sounded, she was grateful for it nonetheless.

She walked to the room she would be occupying, but stopped midway. She turned to Sirius again, coughing to get his attention back on her.

"I'm prepared to live on like this," she said softy.

Sirius said nothing, honestly not sure what to say.

"Harry went to prison. No matter what anyone does now, it won't change the fact that he suffered for nothing and has to live with the scars for the rest of his life. I've thought long and hard about it for all these years. If nothing can be done for me, if I'm stuck as a girl forever, I'm prepared to live with it," she clarified.

"I…see," Sirius murmured, stunned by her admission.

She left him to his thoughts, and boy did the man have a lot to think about.

* * *

When Harry returned, he saw only Ron at the living room table. There was no sign of Sirius. He was tempted to ask her where he was, but he was more concerned of avoiding her altogether.

He walked in at his leisure, intent on going to his bedroom and sleeping.

"Sirius went to see Dumbledore. He said it was urgent," she answered his unspoken question. She didn't look at him. She seemed more invested in a yellow book.

Although surprised that Ron was reading anything, he felt like it didn't concern him.

"Do you hate me?"

He froze. When he looked at her again, her blue eyes had his attention. He could not remember a time when they were so expressive.

Ron stood up slowly, carefully putting the book on the table. She was mindful to keep Harry's attention on her and nothing else. This wasn't an interrogation, but she still _needed_ to know; she needed something to start with.

"Do you hate me?" she repeated, standing in place.

 _The nerve of her to ask me that_ , he mentally seethed. He knew her game. This was her way of manipulating him to make herself feel better — justifying it under the vain notion of mutual understanding. It wasn't _just_ about him. This was about how bad it was for her and how much she could work with the damage. It was technically a good thing, though. It meant she was actually considering both their positions. Whether it was necessary was a different matter. Hate, huh? Did he hate her? He certainly couldn't stand her, but did that qualify as hate? No, but then what did? Hate was something he felt two years ago. It had consumed him to the point where it became toxic. He was beyond that stupid, petty feeling. He didn't hate her; he was indifferent of her. So long as she didn't trigger him, he was beyond their 'relationship'.

"What do you think?" he retorted with a scowl.

The question was obviously rhetorical, and Ron was at a loss on how to respond, anyway. She stood there with her gaze lowered, unsure of herself.

He turned his back on her and retreated to the safety of his room. The conversation was over. Ron knew that was all she was going to get from him. It pained her intensely that this was what their relationship had been reduced to. Making it better, if that was possible at all, would take time.

* * *

"I cannot believe you're not seeing how absurd keeping Hogwarts open — especially _now —_ is."

Albus looked up from his table in his office. Sirius had been quite vocal in pointing out the things he disliked the most — a bit too excessively, however.

"Sirius, we have already discussed this in great detail. I find it odd that you're bringing up the subject again."

Sirius, seated on a chair across from the Headmaster, snorted irritably. "The only thing we've discussed are horrid excuses to keep children in danger. It's pure nonsense. Need I remind you that you're just as much of a high-profile target as the rest of the Order?"

"You've reminded me plenty, and I've taken our discussions into considering when I employed this decision."

Sirius scowled, struggling to add a snarl with it. "If you really—"

"The children's safety has been prioritised by Hogwarts and the Ministry, Black. We've boosted security at the school tenfold to make sure that if anything happened, we have procedures to deal with it. It isn't like we're holding the children against their will. Every parent was requested to consent to their child's continued education and supervision at this school. What, do you think keeping them at their homes, which most have barely a scrap of security, would do any better than what we're offering?"

Sirius turned to his side, scowl now directed at Cornelius Fudge, who was seated just across from him and Dumbledore. Although he couldn't really argue with the moron, Sirius was not backing down. "Listen, _Fudge_ ," the name was spat none too generously, "the reason these kids are more in danger is because of this school alone. Voldemort used to be a student; we know for a fact he hates Albus and everything he stands for. At least if they were home with their families, Voldemort wouldn't bother hunting them down one-by-one by register. To keep Hogwarts going after we know that Voldemort is at large is lunacy!"

Fudge's face was pink with fear and anger. "Do not say that name!" he bellowed.

"Fuck what you want!" Sirius snarled, looking every bit the dog his Animagus takes by. He wasn't in the mood to play nice, not with the people that screwed his godson.

"Watch what you say to me, Black!" Fudge hissed, still reeling from the insulting words. "The only reason — I mean _only_ reason — that you're in here right now is because of me! I can have your pardon retracted any time I want!"

Sirius chuckled — it was deranged and held a tint of venom. "How generous of you, Fudge, to give an innocent man a temporary pardon! Oh, your grace knows no bounds! You think I'm stupid? I know the reason for your 'kindness'! You just want to keep Harry under your watchful eye, afraid his gonna blow everything up in your face! Well, let me tell you something! When Harry ruins you, I'll be there to laugh it up!"

Fudge sputtered in rage at Sirius' words. His retort was reduced to nothing but blabbering gibberish and a meek, "You're not innocent."

Albus massaged his skull, the feeling of a headache slowly surfacing. This wasn't the first time Sirius made it known that he didn't like them and it would not be the last.

Sirius returned the conversation in Albus' direction. "Why am I here? If it concerns Harry, then there's nothing to talk about."

"Technically, yes, it does concern Harry." Dumbledore put a patient hand up to stop Sirius' angered response. "However, it is not about his whereabouts or how he's doing. It's a lot more…complicated than just that."

"Well, what is it, then?"

"Allow me to explain first before I get to that."

That confused Sirius. A glance at an indignant Fudge confirmed that he was the only person in the room being left out of something. He nodded at Albus, waiting for him to explain himself.

"The night that James and Lily died, the night Tom was defeated, I was placed temporary guardianship of Harry before releasing him to the care of his aunt and uncle."

Well, Sirius guessed as much, so he didn't seem all that surprised.

"It was during this time I, as Chief Warlock of Wizengamot, discussed fervently with the board as to Harry's likely future as the person who defeated Tom. Scenarios were discussed — both possible and impossible. It was at this time, in the height of celebrating our victory that we realised that the future for Harry would not look too promising."

Sirius raised a brow, not completely following but deciding to humour himself. "Why was that?"

"Harry was a global hero, and his fame would attract dozens of people from far and wide. It was then a distressing thought occurred. What if the new fame that resulted with the death of his parents weighed too heavily and Harry couldn't handle the pressure? It was then I made contingent plans to make sure that Harry had as much of an ordinary life as possible — a life close with those of family. Of course, there were numerous, eager people who wanted to adopt Harry. However, I felt it wouldn't be the same upbringing from blood relatives that he needed."

In short, Albus messed up and cowardly justified his actions, Sirius observed. What a ludicrous reason for Harry to go through all that trauma at the hands of his so called 'family'. He bit back a scathing comment and continued to listen on as Dumbledore dug himself deeper into a hole.

"Before I handed him to his family, the Ministry and I entertained the idea of what his future would mean for would-be suitors."

Sirius felt the hair on his neck stand on end. He felt a deep chill travel up his spine. A sense of dread was enclosing around him. He had a terrible feeling of where the conversation was headed.

"I wanted Harry to have a promising future. A future that was set to make it easy for him. I discussed this thoroughly with other parental figures who knew that their children would one day be interacting with Harry Potter. I made sure that we were on the same page when it concerned the children and their futures. They consented and—"

"You drew up a fucking marriage contract!" Sirius roared from his seat, ready to explode into a fit of rage at any moment. "Are you crazy?!"

"Calm yourself, Black!" Fudge barked, but his words meant nothing.

Sirius nearly leapt to his feet. He banged his hands on Albus' desk, visibly seething. "What possessed you to do that?! Who made you Merlin, huh?!"

Dumbledore looked as calm as he usually did. "Please calm down, Sirius. I'm not done ex—"

"I don't care! Where is it?!"

Fudge glowered at Sirius. "It's a magically _binding_ contract. No matter what you do, it's set in stone. Only Potter can reject it — well, after his eighteenth birthday, which I take it is next year?"

Sirius snarled at the both of them. So, they were in on it together.

"Where is the bloody proposal?!" he demanded.

Fudge and Albus exchanged worried glances at each other. It was a while before someone said anything.

"Actually…it isn't just one."

"What?!" Sirius sputtered.

"It was in the boy's best interest!" Fudge shouted. "Imagine if he married a gold-digging harlot who would ruin his name! At least this way, his choices have been considered for him, and he's free to find someone that would look beyond his fame! If you ask me, the boy owes the Ministry a debt of gratitude for this!"

Fighting very hard not to throttle Fudge where his stood, Sirius glared dangerously at Albus. "How many suitors?"

Albus mouth formed a thin line. In all honestly, he didn't want to have the conversation to begin with. But he had been doing a lot of self-reflection and felt that he owed Harry this much to stay in the loop of what was happening behind the scenes. Besides, Sirius would have found out sooner or later. "Twenty six," he answered softly.

Sirius wanted to bang his head against something. Really? Really?! As if they hadn't done enough to Harry, now a forced marriage was on the table, too?! "Forced marriage. Merlin's beard."

"Like Fudge mentioned, he is free to cancel any contract after the age of eighteen," Albus hastily supplied. It was a costly mistake, one he realised too late.

"… You know it isn't that simple. I've never, ever seen a simple marriage proposal. It's even worse if the girl is from a noble family!" Sirius growled through snarling teeth. He couldn't stand to be around the two anymore, so he quickly changed tactics. "Give me every contract now."

Dumbledore indicated a stack of neatly presented papers on his desk. "They're merely copies. The Ministry won't allow the free distribution of the original documents."

Sirius grabbed them roughly, skimming through them in agitation.

"Does Harry even know any of these girls?" he asked.

Both Fudge and Albus knew that the little civility they had was over now. Sirius couldn't be bothered to look at them anymore.

"Twelve are from Hogwarts; fifteen are the same age as him…"

Sirius didn't miss the obvious attempt at sugarcoating. It didn't change the fact that this was a very terrible thing that had been done. "So that means that the rest are either older or younger than him. He might not even know anyone on these bloody proposals!"

"He does — many used to be in his classes when he was a student here," Albus retorted. A part of him felt ashamed that he was still defending the topic. Another part, though — the one that was looking out for Harry, for the Greater Good — felt this was all worth it, justifiable.

Sirius skimmed page-to-page, taking great care to notice that every marriage candidate had signed their contract. So, they obviously knew what was going on. It was Harry that was left in the dark — if the empty space intended for his signature didn't give enough of that away. That made it all the lower. He needed to show Harry this. He was not about to let his godson be manipulated another time by these heartless people.

"The reason we told you all this," Fudge cut across his thoughts, "is because we want you to make an informed decision and tell Harry about it when the time is right. Right now isn't one of those times."

Sirius could not believe what he was hearing.

"So, let me get this straight. You want me to keep this a secret from Harry, yet everyone and his bloody baby knows _and_ agreed to these proposals? Were your born mental?" Sirius said, his eyes wide in disbelief.

"I'd cut the insults while I am ahead, Black," Fudge sneered, the warning tone not missed by anyone in the room.

"I know exactly what this is," Sirius growled, looking at Dumbledore. "You know fully well that you've made a hash of this! Yet you're too stubborn to own up to this barmy idea of yours!"

Albus meant to comment, but Sirius merely dismissed him and made for the door. He had enough of this conversation. He felt the need to leave before they smothered him with something else.

"I trust we can put our faith in you, Sirius?" Dumbledore asked imploringly.

He stopped mid-walk and turn to Dumbledore. "To keep it a secret from Harry?"

"For now. We don't need him being too distracted by this."

"Sure, I'll keep it a secret," he lied through his teeth. Let them think he was on their side. He was going to give them a harsh lesson in manipulation. Making sure his Occlumency was fully intact, he gave them each a resigned nod.

Although surprised, neither Fudge nor Albus could find fault in Sirius understanding their point of view.

"It's good to know that you're not above reason," Fudge commented.

Sirius grinded his teeth together. He was about to stomp out of the office when the door opening garnered everyone's attention.

Hermione walked in distractedly, only expecting to see her headmaster. She stiffened when she noticed an upset Sirius in the room. Her gaze quickly found Dumbledore's. "I'm sorry, Headmaster. Am I interrupting something?"

"Of course not, Ms. Granger. I did call you here, after all. Please take a seat. And Sirius, would you mind staying a little while longer? This concerns you as well."

Sirius _really_ wanted something to bang his head against.

* * *

 _A/N: So, as you can see, not much action yet. This chapter was a bit of a drag for me, actually. It's a lot of work slowing things down and focusing on development. Took me so many weeks to piece together. I hope you enjoyed it. Any questions, PM me. I'll probably won't be back on FF anytime soon. But at least you know the story ain't dead. Like I said earlier, my author's notes will be very brief, so I won't be answering any reviews, but I will reply to reviews through PMs._

 _Until next time, ciao!_


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